by Beverly Long
Aunt Freida cracked eggs into a bowl. “It’s Sunday, dear. The store isn’t open. Services start at nine.”
Church. Of course. She hadn’t been to church since her mother had died.
“We’ll need to hurry home today,” Aunt Freida added. “I’ve invited Thomas, Earl, Mrs. Bean and her companion, Constance to join us for Sunday dinner.”
Bella looked around the crowded room. She didn’t know where all those people intended to sit. There weren’t that many available chairs.
Aunt Freida laughed. “I know. I’ve got a little tidying to do before they get here.”
It was times like this she really regretted that she’d had to leave her magic at home. Even Averil would be hard pressed not to see that this warranted extreme measures. “Where would you like me to start?” she asked.
Aunt Freida smiled. “I’m not sure. You’re the one who has the talent for organizing and such.”
Yes, well, she was fairly sure the bulldozer had yet to be invented so that left that option out. “I guess the best plan would be to take everything into my bedroom. We’ll shut the door and hope the Mrs. Bean doesn’t take it upon herself to go exploring.”
“The woman does make me nervous,” Aunt Freida admitted. She straightened up from the stove. “By the way,” she said, her tone much too casual, “you and Jedidiah left early last night.”
It wasn’t a question or a statement, but rather, something in between. “Yes,” she said, hoping Aunt Freida would let it go. In her heart she knew that was as hopeless as wishing the Titanic had never sunk.
“You know, I like Jedidiah McNeil very much,” Aunt Freida said. “He’s been very much like a son to me.”
Bella resisted the urge to sigh. “I know that.”
Aunt Freida turned to face her. “But he’s not blood, Bella, and you are. And while you’re a grown woman, I’m still responsible for you while you’re here. So if he’s done or said anything to make you uncomfortable, then I need to know that, and I’ll take it up with him.”
Oh this was great. Her legacy in Mantosa would be that she was the woman who drove a stake between Freida Stroganhaufer and Jedidiah McNeil. “Jed didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “He just…” Bella could feel the heat rush to her face.
“Just what?” Aunt Freida picked up a wooden spoon and slapped it against her hand.
“He kissed me,” Bella blurted out.
Aunt Freida stopped slapping and considered her. “And what did you do?”
Melted. Exploded. Most any action verb would fit. “I sort of kissed him back,” she hedged.
Aunt Freida folded her arms across her chest, pursed her lips, and raised one eyebrow. Simultaneously. Bella would have appreciated the coordination of movements if she hadn’t been altogether consumed with the memory of how she’d sort of kissed Jed back. She sank down in the chair and buried her face in her hands.
Aunt Freida didn’t say a word. Finally, Bella worked up the courage to look up. Aunt Freida stood in the same spot, a big grin on her weathered face.
“You’re telling me,” Aunt Freida said, “that you and Jedidiah have the what?”
Bella almost swallowed her tongue. “No. Oh, no. Absolutely not. You can’t know that you have the what with one kiss.”
Aunt Freida shook her head. “I don’t know, Bella. Maybe you ought to let him kiss you again just so you can know for sure.”
She’d probably spontaneously combust. “That’s not a good idea. Come on. Let’s get this place picked up.”
By the time Bella and Aunt Freida left for church, the cabin was in much better shape. Her bed was a college sorority tea party—there were dolls everywhere, most of them half dressed, a few with fully painted faces, and there was tea cups and other assorted crap everywhere around them.
Bella was surprised when Aunt Freida drove her wagon up to Stonemark Hall. “This is where you have church?”
“Makes for comfortable praying,” Aunt Freida said. “I don’t reckon God will fault us for that.”
Once inside the church, she saw many from the night before. Wymer. Patience and her sister, Madeline. The Bean brothers. Mrs. Bean and Constance, looking as sour as ever. Rows of chairs had been set up on the dance floor and a big wooden cross had been rolled in. She saw Saul in the back row. Their eyes met and Bella could feel the man’s animosity.
Maybe the sermon would be about tolerance or forgiveness. Or, if God was really watching out for her, it’d be a parable about how jerky guys who tried to intimidate women always got their balls cut off.
When the minister walked up and stood next to the cross, she was a little surprised to see that it was the man who’d spent most of last night standing near the punch that she was fairly certain had been spiked. His eyes were red and the black suit he wore looked as if it had been slept in. When he started speaking, he had a booming voice that made a microphone, not that they had one, absolutely not necessary.
He was five minutes into his sermon when she saw Jed and his sister slip in the back. She focused on the minister and desperately tried to take in what he was saying. When that didn’t work, she tried to remember the names of all her grade school teachers. Then she did the times tables. Anything to avoid thinking about him, about the kiss, and about Aunt Freida’s assumption that she and Jed had the what.
Exactly one hour after it began, the service ended. Bella hoped for a quick escape but those plans were thwarted when Aunt Freida saw Jed’s sister. “Oh, Elizabeth,” Aunt Freida said, “it’s a sight for sore eyes to see you here.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I decided that I’ve been mad at God for long enough.” She glanced over at Jed who stood several feet away, caught up in conversation with Wymer. “I wasn’t brave enough to come back on my own. Too many memories of the last sermon I heard.” She looked at Bella. “When my husband died,” she explained.
Aunt Freida put her arm around Elizabeth. “Would you join us for dinner today, Elizabeth?”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you Freida, but you weren’t expecting company. Plus, Jedidiah brought me and is intending to take me home.”
Aunt Freida shook her head. “Jedidiah is welcome, too. And you’re not company. You’re my friend and I’ve missed you. I’ve got more than enough food, so it would be no trouble at all.”
Bella could see that Jed and Wymer had finished their conversation. She also saw the brief hesitation in his step before he came to stand next to his sister. He gave a general nod in Bella’s direction but he didn’t make eye contact with her.
Maybe he’d forgotten that he’d practically had his tongue down her throat the night before.
Aunt Freida gave a quick glance over her shoulder, as if to assure herself that Mrs. Bean and the Bean boys were still in conversation with the minister. Then she leaned closer to Elizabeth and Jed. “Please come to dinner. Both of you. Thomas is bringing his mother,” she whispered.
Elizabeth smiled and Bella was once again struck at how beautiful she was. She had almost perfect bone structure and skin that seemed to absolutely glow. “Oh. I see.” She looked at her brother. “Jedidiah, we have time for dinner at Freida’s, don’t we?”
He looked like a man who’d rather spend the next hour sticking pins in his eyeballs but he was also a man who clearly doted on his sister. “I imagine we do.”
Aunt Freida let out a sigh and she looked very satisfied, leaving Bella to wonder if the sudden invitation was all about the Bean’s coming to dinner or did it have something to do with Bella’s earlier admission that Jed had kissed her. Was Aunt Freida trying to decide for herself whether Bella and Jed had the what.
It was a small entourage that headed out to Aunt Freida’s cabin. Aunt Freida and Bella led, the Bean’s followed, and Jed and his sister took the rear. Bella, who loved to watch corny old musicals on television, softly whistled Seventy-Six Trombones and wished she had a pair of symbols—she could slap them babies together, up alongside Jed’s head, and jump start his brain.
; What the hell was his problem?
“That’s a lively tune,” Aunt Freida said.
“Should be a lively lunch,” Bella said. She tapped her toe on the wooden floorboards on the wagon and took a big breath. “Aunt Freida, how well do you know Jed?”
The woman shrugged. “I knew him as a boy. My boys were just a couple years older than him. I got to know him better once he’d come back to Mantosa, once he became sheriff.”
“And you think a lot of him?”
Now Aunt Freida smiled. “Jedidiah has his faults. He’s too serious and he works too hard and he sometimes doesn’t try hard enough to make others around him feel comfortable. But he was good to his mother and he treats his sister like a queen. He makes sure his best friend has a roof over his head and warm food for his stomach. He’ll stand up to bank robbers and cattle thieves and most everybody in town knows that he’s the best shot in these parts.”
It was Bella’s turn to smile. She looked over her shoulder, past the Beans, and stared at Jed’s carriage. His face was turned towards his sister. He had a strong profile, a proud chin, straight nose. Fabulous lips, too. She didn’t need to see those in order to remember.
He was so different from the men in her time. He was physically stronger, for sure, but it wasn’t just that. He had character and a sense of purpose.
It dawned on her that if she was going to be here longer, it would be a whole lot of fun leading him astray. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Once they were at the cabin, Aunt Freida got busy lighting the stove and setting the table. Bella was going to offer to help but Mrs. Bean beat her to the punch. She figured it might be a good bonding experience for the two women so she joined the rest of the group. Thomas and String Bean sat in chairs facing the couch, where Constance and Elizabeth had landed. Jed stood, near enough to the fireplace that he could lean to the right and rest his arm on the stone ledge above the massive pit.
Elizabeth patted the vacant spot on the couch. “Have a seat. Are your legs tired from dancing last night?”
“A little,” Bella admitted.
String leaned forward in his chair. “You’re a right fine dancer, Bella.”
Thomas nodded. “That was the consensus of every man there who danced with you. Light as a feather and quick on your feet.”
“Thank you. It’s been a while,” she added, feeling slightly embarrassed at the praise.
“Was your husband fond of dancing?” Elizabeth asked.
Jed straightened up.
It was getting tougher every day keeping track of the lies. “Yes. Absolutely,” she said.
Elizabeth reached over and patted her hand. “How did he die, Bella?”
CHAPTER NINE
Oh, boy. How did her husband die? Aunt Freida probably knew the answer to that one but unfortunately hadn’t said. Probably didn’t think she needed to tell Bella that.
Bella licked her lips. “My husband died…suddenly.” Didn’t everyone? Even those that lingered on, when the end finally came, even if it wasn’t a surprise, it was sudden.
Then there were those, like her mother, who were so full of life one minute and dead the next, that their death was so shocking that it took your breath away. All you were left with was regrets and a sharp, jagged grief that made you bleed inside.
She stood up so quickly that she got dizzy. “You know, that fire feels really good on a day like today. I think I’ll go get some more wood. The pile is getting pretty low.”
She grabbed her cloak and was out the door in less than thirty seconds. She practically ran to the wood pile that Aunt Freida kept near the side of the cabin but she knew the small amount of exertion had nothing to do with her cheeks feeling hot and the back of her neck getting sticky with sweat.
She’d never told anyone about the fight she’d had with her mother that day. She’d said horrible things and slammed doors and when she’d heard her mother’s car start, she’d stayed in her room, determined to make her point.
Her mother had been dead within the hour.
And she’d never had the courage to admit that it had been her fault. She’d seen her father’s suffering and heard Averil crying at night and still she’d stayed silent.
And every day she’d felt a little more empty. She’d filled her days with people and places and no one had known that she’d woken up every morning with an unsaid apology on her lips.
She blinked back tears and almost blindly, she squatted down and started frantically gathering wood. She had her arms half full of small logs when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t have to turn around. She knew his touch—after a couple crazy kisses in the moonlight, she’d have known his touch anywhere.
“I don’t think my sister meant to upset you,” he said, his voice soft.
She relaxed her arms and the logs fall back to the ground. She kept her head bent. “I’m not upset,” she lied. She really needed to get her crap together before she faced him or anybody else inside that cabin. “I’ll be back inside in just a few minutes.”
He moved and she thought he was going to leave. Inside, he shifted to her side and out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was holding out his hand.
Go away, Jed.
He didn’t seem to be particularly attuned to her telepathic messages. Or perhaps he was deliberately ignoring them—which was a problem because sooner or later lunch would be ready and somebody would come looking for them.
She swiped her hand across her cheeks, trying to destroy the evidence. Then, against her better judgment, she reached up and slipped her hand into his.
Solid. Substantial. Yet, he held her hand gently. He pulled and she got to her feet. When she tried to yank her hand away, he didn’t let go. Instead, he guided her back towards the side of the house, where they’d be out of sight of anyone coming out the door.
He tilted her face up to meet his. His mostly-gray eyes were troubled. With the pad of his thumb he brushed a tear off her cheek. “Missed one,” he said. “You know I don’t generally give advice,” he added. “But if gathering wood troubles you so, then perhaps you should consider having someone else take on that task.”
He was teasing her. Jedidiah McNeil, the man who Aunt Freida had said didn’t try hard enough to make others feel comfortable, was doing his best to cheer her up. “I’ll try to remember that,” she said. She sniffed and he smiled.
“I should probably get back inside,” she said.
He took another step closer, crowding her. “That’s what you said last night, too. Before I kissed you.”
He bent his head, his lips just inches from hers. Oh Lord, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.
“Jed.” It was a plea. But for what? To let her walk away? Or maybe to kiss her until she couldn’t remember her own name? He confused the hell out of her.
He let out a sigh and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. “I don’t know what it is about you but I can’t seem to get you out of my head,” he said. He didn’t sound angry but he didn’t sound very happy either. He took the pad of his thumb, the same one that had brushed her tears away, and ran it across her bottom lip.
She felt a zing go straight to the places that enjoyed it the most.
He leaned into her, his knee forcing her legs apart. Lord. Another inch higher and she’d be riding him. The zing would have a matching zang.
This was insane. Their worlds were one hundred and thirty years apart. “Walk or let me walk,” she begged.
He sighed, then smiled, then nodded. And she relaxed.
“Tomorrow,” he said, right before he bent his head and consumed her.
She was putty in his hands—warm, sticky, glop that could be twisted and turned and shaped. She opened her mouth and with each lick and stab of his tongue, she felt herself grow more pliant, more yielding, more needy.
He stopped kissing her as suddenly as he’d started. He stepped away from her, his hands in the air. His chest heaved as he sucked in air. “Shit,” he sa
id.
It was as if he’d thrown a bucket of cold water on her. She felt dazed, confused, hesitant. Out of control. That was the worst of it. He made her feel that she’d lost control. She’d perfected being out of control for the past ten years—most anybody could vouch for that. But this time, it was supposed to be different.
She was mad at herself and mad at him, too. “What was that about?” she asked.
He’d apparently been struck mute because he didn’t answer. Instead, he reached inside her coat and pulled his watch out of his vest pocket. “Please tell Freida that I’m not going to be able to stay for dinner, after all. Tell my sister I’ll be back in exactly two hours to collect her and that I’d appreciate it if she’s ready to go.”
“That’s it?” she demanded, her temper getting the best of her. “You kissed me last night and I was willing to let it go, to just chalk it up to moonlight and spiked punch. But today, it’s barely noon and we’re supposed to be eating Sunday dinner in just a few minutes. This is ordinary life, Jed. You can’t just do unexpected, random things in an ordinary life and expect that I won’t ask a question or two.”
He considered her and she could tell by the set of his jaw and the flash of his eyes that his own temper had been tweaked. “I don’t have any damned answers, Bella. Maybe it’s as simple as I didn’t want to see you crying over your dead husband.”
“So, it was a pity kiss?” she accused.
“I don’t know what the hell it was,” he said. “All I can tell you is that it’s not going to happen again.”
He turned and walked away, his strides long and determined. He got into his carriage and without another glance at her, drove out of Aunt Freida’s lane.
Bella kicked the wood pile. Her toes were cold and the sudden jolt sent a spike of pain up her leg. Damn him. He ran hot and cold and she couldn’t keep up with the sudden temperature changes.
Just what the hell was she supposed to tell the rest of group when she returned? Oh, by the way, Jed and I were swapping spit outside and it was very cool until he panicked and hit the road at a dead run.