by Gina Wilkins
He had his hair cut by a garrulous barber at the Main Street Barbershop, which had been in business since 1922. He couldn’t help noticing that most of the magazines provided for the customers were almost as old as the shop. His no-nonsense haircut came with a free side order of corny jokes and local gossip. Case got a kick out of both.
He opened an account at the bank. Maddie’s friend Jill introduced him to Mr. Peacock, the bank president. At first a bit suspicious, Peacock took one look at the amount Case was transferring to the bank in Mitchell’s Fork and immediately decided they would be best friends for life. He invited Case to be his guest at the Rotary luncheon every Thursday in the private dining room at Mike and Maddie’s Restaurant. Case promptly accepted.
Everywhere he went, he received advice on how best to “court” Maddie Carmichael. It seemed the townsfolk had been worried about Maddie.
“Almost thirty and still unmarried,” said one of the old gentlemen at the Classy Café. “It ain’t natural for a pretty little thing like that. Too picky, that’s what I’ve always told her daddy. None of the boys around here pleased her. ‘Cept for Jackson Babbit, of course. And everyone knows he won’t marry her. After those last two wives of his cleaned him out, that boy looks at matrimony like a chicken looks at a stew pot.”
“You can’t let her manipulate you. I always told her daddy he was spoilin’ her,” an elderly woman stated. “After her mama died, weren’t nothing her daddy didn’t give her if she wanted it. Made her think she was above herself. Now she’s dyin’ her hair and wearin’ them tight clothes and runnin’ around with that Babbit boy, and I can tell you her mama would turn over in her grave if she saw her. ‘Course, she can be a sweet little thing. Takes real good care of her grandpa and her great-aunt Nettie. Lots of young people don’t have time for their elders these days. Don’t you keep her away from her family, Case Brannigan, you hear?”
“Maddie Carmichael’s going to make someone a good wife and mother,” Hank the barber said pointedly. “She comes from a good family, knows how to cook and run a household. Smart, too. Graduated top of her class from Mitchell’s Fork High and then went on to business school to learn about keeping the books for the restaurant. Some folks been saying she’s getting out of hand, but I say she just needs herself a man and some young’uns to keep her busy. You know what I’m talking about, Brannigan?”
“Romance,” Jill whispered as she slipped Case his first set of temporary checks on his newly opened bank account. “Try flowers and poetry and soft music. Maddie’s a real pushover for romance.”
“Diamonds,” Peacock said, with an eye on Case’s bank balance. “If you want her to feel engaged, you’ve got to get a rock on her finger. My brother owns a jewelry store, you know. I’ll introduce you at the Rotary meeting. He can make you a deal.”
Case politely thanked everyone for their suggestions, and continued to pursue his own course of action. But—just in case—he kept a mental note of everything they’d said to him.
He just might get desperate before this was over, he thought ruefully.
* * *
MADDIE TURNED her car into the long driveway leading to Case’s house. A stack of thick wallpaper sample books lay in the passenger seat, and there were carpet samples in the back seat. The samples had come from the local hardware store and decorating center. She still wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up agreeing to bring them with her on this Monday afternoon in June.
She just didn’t seem to be able to say no when Case asked her a favor. It was that very weakness that had almost gotten her married to the guy.
She saw Case as soon as the house came into view. He was kneeling by the steps leading to the front porch, swinging a hammer with more enthusiasm than skill. He was wearing jeans and sneakers, but he’d taken off his shirt. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the massive oak tree that stood to one side of the house, making a rippling pattern of light and shadows on Case’s glistening back.
Maddie swallowed hard. Oh, heavens.
Case looked around when Maddie climbed out of her car and slammed the door. He set down the hammer and jumped to his feet, welcoming her with a smile that only stoked the heat building somewhere deep inside her. “Hi,” he said, his tone making the casual syllable almost an endearment.
“Hi,” she managed to say in return. She quickly moved around the car and opened the passenger door. “I brought the samples.”
Case pulled on a blue chambray shirt as he approached her, though he left it hanging loose and unbuttoned over his jeans. “I really appreciate this, Maddie. I need your advice.”
“For what it’s worth,” Maddie said self-deprecatingly. She lifted the load of wallpaper books and turned to hand them to him. As she faced him, she couldn’t resist glancing down at the skin revealed by the open front of his shirt. She hadn’t seen his bare chest since they’d swam together in Cancú. She remembered how tanned and muscular he was, how—
Maddie gasped. The wallpaper books hit the ground with a heavy thud as she covered her mouth with suddenly trembling hands.
Case reached out to her in confusion. “Maddie? What is it?”
Her gaze was focused low on his stomach. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she pulled his shirt out of the way, then walked slowly around him, lifting the fabric to expose his lower back.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned. “Oh, Case.”
It was the first time she’d seen the scars. Just above the loose waistband of his low-slung jeans, the large entry scar was still red and puckered, an angry-looking testimony to the shot that had almost incapacitated him. From its placement, Maddie could tell that the bullet had missed his spine by only an inch or so. The crooked red scars she’d spotted low on his side had been the exit wounds, she realized with a sickening jolt.
She thought of his leg, and the limp that had been steadily improving since he’d arrived in Mitchell’s Fork three weeks ago. There must be an equally ugly scar on his thigh, she realized, her heart twisting at this evidence of the pain he’d suffered. For some reason, his story hadn’t been quite real to her until now, when she saw the evidence with her own eyes.
Case glanced downward and scowled. “Sorry. I know it looks bad. I’ll button my shirt.”
Hardly hearing him, she reached out to touch the damaged skin with unsteady fingertips. “It must have hurt you so horribly.”
“It wasn’t pleasant,” he said, making the understatement in a flat monotone. “But the scars will fade, in time.”
She shook her head irritably. “I don’t care about the scars,” she said fiercely.
Case studied her face for a moment. And then he stepped over the scattered wallpaper books and took her in his arms.
Maddie buried her face in his bare shoulder, her hands sliding up his back beneath his shirt. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Because you were hurt, and because I treated you so badly when you tried to tell me about it. I didn’t know— I didn’t realize—”
“I know,” he murmured into her hair. “I know, Maddie. It’s okay.”
For the first time, she allowed herself to think about him lying in a hospital bed, uncertain of whether he would walk again. He must have been scared, and lonely—had he thought of her?
She swallowed a moan. This was exactly the reason she hadn’t allowed herself to think about what he’d told her. She’d known even then that she couldn’t think of Case in pain without softening toward him.
“Maddie,” Case said, tilting her head upward with a finger beneath her chin. “The wounds will heal. The scars will fade. It’s over.”
But it wasn’t over, she mused, studying his so-familiar face. He was here, still intent on marrying her and living with her in this house. And she still didn’t know whether he loved her, or was just enamored of the idea of all she represented.
She still wasn’t even sure what she felt toward him. She wanted him. She was fascinated by him, had been from the beginning. She couldn’t bear to
think of him in pain. And no matter what she’d said to him or to anyone else, she couldn’t really imagine telling him goodbye and walking away from him, never to see him again. She feared that doing so would break her already battered heart.
Was this love?
She glumly suspected that it was.
“You look so serious,” he murmured, caressing her cheek. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering what I’m going to do about you,” she said as she had once before.
“Marry me,” he said, repeating his earlier reply.
She only sighed.
He smiled a bit crookedly and lowered his head to kiss her. “Let’s go look at wallpaper samples,” he said when he finally released her mouth.
Still reeling from his kiss, Maddie nodded mutely, gathered an armload of carpet squares from the back seat, and followed him into his house.
* * *
IT WAS the first time Maddie had been inside the house since Case had shown it to her two weeks ago, the day her grandfather had taken ill. She was amused to see that it was almost as empty now as it had been then.
Case had apparently been sleeping in a sleeping bag in the den. Two suitcases and a duffel bag were scattered nearby, the contents spilling out of them. His wardrobe, she realized.
“This is really all you own?” she couldn’t resist asking.
He shrugged. “Yeah. I have a lot of things I need to buy now. I don’t even have hangers for my shirts.”
“Furnishing a house this size is going to be a major undertaking,” she warned him.
“I thought I’d just do a few rooms at a time. Add things as I need them,” he explained. “But it seemed like a good idea to paint and wallpaper and recarpet before I bring any furniture in.”
“I suppose so—if you don’t mind living this way in the meantime.”
He shrugged again. “I’ve lived in more primitive surroundings.”
She wondered again what kind of life he’d led. How could staid Mitchell’s Fork ever compare?
Case set the stack of wallpaper books on the floor and motioned for Maddie to do the same with the carpet samples. “Want something cold to drink?” he offered.
“That sounds nice. Thank you.” She followed him into the kitchen.
There was a stack of paper plates on the bar. The kitchen had come furnished with a large, built-in refrigerator, stove, oven, microwave and dishwasher. Case had added an electric coffeemaker. As far as Maddie could tell, that was about it.
“What have you been eating?” she asked.
He opened the refrigerator door. She could see luncheon meats, a jar of mustard, canned drinks, a gallon of milk and several foil-covered casserole dishes. “Almost every evening, someone stops by with a casserole of some sort. I think your friend Jill is behind it. She brought one the first night I moved in—some sort of chicken dish. It was good.”
Maddie fought against that unbecoming jealousy again. “So Jill came to see you, did she?”
“Mmm. Real neighborly of her, I thought. The others, too, of course.”
“Wasn’t it, though.”
Maddie thought she saw a smile tugging at the corners of Case’s mouth when he ducked his head into the refrigerator. “What will you have?” he asked, his voice bland. “Cola, beer, juice?”
Maddie asked for a cola.
“You’ll have to drink it out of the can or from a coffee mug,” he warned. “I don’t have any drinking glasses.”
“The can’s fine,” Maddie assured him. She moved to the sink and looked out the window above it. The covered porch wrapped around that side of the house, with a ragged flower bed on the other side. She pictured lush ferns hanging from the porch eaves, and brightly colored flowers blooming in the bed. It would make a nice view for someone working in this kitchen, she thought, carefully keeping any personal references out of the silent observation.
“I hear you’ve been getting to know the townspeople,” she said without turning around. “Seems like everyone I run in to these days asks about you. You’ve made quite a hit down at the Classy Café.”
“Great breakfast,” he said, moving to stand beside her. He handed her the soft drink and popped the opener on his drink. “The people around here seem nice, for the most part.”
Hearing an undertone in his voice, she glanced at him. “You’ve met some who weren’t so nice?”
His eyes narrowed. “Met your sheriff this morning.”
She winced. “McAdams? How did you run in to him? You haven’t been getting into trouble already, have you?”
“Not exactly. I went into his office to report a crime. He’s a real idiot, isn’t he?”
“Yes. What crime did you report?” She turned to him in curiosity.
A flicker of anger lighted his gray eyes. “Some bastard keyed my Ferrari.”
“Keyed it?” she repeated, not quite sure what he meant.
“Yeah. Took a key and scraped it down both sides of my car. Left gouges from front to back on both sides. I was really pissed off.”
Maddie already knew Case well enough to know how he felt about that car—his only extravagance, he’d called it. “I can imagine. When did it happen?”
“While I was having breakfast.”
“I don’t suppose anyone saw who did it.”
Case growled. “Not that they’d admit.”
She cocked her head. “You think someone did see?”
“Yeah. A couple of people I asked acted pretty funny—like they wanted to tell me, but were afraid to.”
Maddie had a sudden sinking feeling. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Case seemed to think that she’d come to the same conclusion he had. “I think it was that Cooper kid and his punk friends. I wish I’d caught the little jerks in the act.”
“You’re probably right,” Maddie said. “It sounds like something Danny would do, especially since he seems to have taken a dislike to you. You won’t get anyone to testify against him, though.”
“That’s what your idiot sheriff said when I told him who I suspected. Said he didn’t have any proof and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He implied that it was my fault for having such an expensive car in the first place.”
Maddie exclaimed in disgust. “The jerk.”
“That’s pretty much what I called him. With a few choice adjectives, of course.”
Now Maddie was worried. “Case, if you’re serious about settling here, you really don’t want to make an enemy of the sheriff or the Coopers. They can make it unpleasant for you here, to say the least.”
“They don’t worry me.”
“I know you aren’t afraid of them, and I understand. But—well, just don’t do anything to make the townspeople have to choose sides, okay? After all, you’re a stranger to them, even though they seem to like what they know of you. The Coopers have lived here for years, and they have a lot of power.”
“Only because no one’s had the guts to stand up to them.”
“Maybe. But I still wish you’d be careful.”
He gave her his familiar shrug. “Whatever you say, Maddie.”
He always said that in a tone that implied he didn’t agree with a word of what she said, Maddie thought with exasperation. She’d tried to warn him about making enemies of the Coopers and their cronies. That was the most she could do for now.
Turning away from the window, she moved past him toward the den. “Maybe we should get started with those carpet and wallpaper samples,” she said.
* * *
LACKING ANYWHERE ELSE to sit, they sat cross-legged on the too-orange carpet on the den floor, the samples spread in front of them, their heads close together as they bent over them.
Maddie was secretly surprised by Case’s participation in the selection process. He offered more opinions and suggestions than she’d expected, and had very definite ideas about what he did not want. “No birds and no plaids,” he said flatly. “I don’t like wallpaper with birds or plaids.”
&
nbsp; Maddie giggled. “How about plaid birds?”
He gave her a mock scowl. “Cute.” He pointed to a tasteful floral pattern done in dark greens and burgundies. “I like that.”
“So do I,” she admitted, picturing it in the dining room. “Are these the colors you want to use?”
“I like blue and green and red. I don’t like pink or purple.”
She bit her lip. “That narrows it down,” she admitted unsteadily.
Case looked at her suspiciously. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Heaven forbid.”
“You are.” He sounded resigned. “Would you rather do this without me?”
“Of course not,” she said quickly. “It’s your house.”
“You know I’m hoping it will be our house.”
She looked steadily at the samples in front of her. “You said you wouldn’t do that.”
“I said I’d try not to push,” he reminded her. “I never said I would lie.”
“Case,” she groaned. “You make this so difficult for me.”
“Good,” he said roughly, reaching for her. “Because it’s damned difficult for me not to remind you every day that we should already be married. That we should be living here together now, furnishing our house, getting it ready for our kids.”
Her hands settled on his shoulders—only to steady herself, she thought. “Case. Don’t.”
“Maddie,” he mocked her gently. “I can’t help it.”
His mouth closed over hers with a hunger that he’d held in restraint for the past two weeks.
Maddie could almost feel her common sense slip away. Even worse, she did absolutely nothing to hold on to it.
He’d buttoned his shirt since they’d entered the house. Maddie found herself resenting the fabric that kept her hands from his skin.