“Like you?” Angel asked with a raised eyebrow.
Valentine glanced around the store, making sure no one else was in earshot before answering, “Yes. But don’t tell Daddy.” She smirked, then added, “Not that he would believe you anyway, but it would upset him dreadfully to hear such rumors about his daughter.”
“If the rumors of your interest in Nathan would be so dreadful, why would you even suggest such a thing?”
“Just because Daddy doesn’t see Nathan’s attributes doesn’t mean that I am blind to them.”
Angel gave a snort of disgust, and disbelief colored her voice as she said, “And you think Nathan would be interested in you?”
Valentine leaned forward, suddenly uncomfortably close even with the counter between herself and Angel. “This is my town,” Valentine hissed. “You would do well to remember you are merely a guest, and an unwelcome one at that.”
Just then the bell on the door jingled, and Nathan walked through the door. Both Valentine and Angel gaped at him for a moment, and then Valentine returned her attention to Angel, smiling sweetly. “You should probably go, dear. I know it must be terribly awkward to be in the same room as Nathan now that you are no longer . . . sharing one with him.”
Angel gave Valentine a flat look, then turned to nod a greeting at Nathan. Valentine tilted her head to the side and looked up at Nathan through her eyelashes.
“Hello, Nathan,” she simpered.
Nathan returned Valentine’s greeting with a brief nod, scarcely acknowledging her, then waved warmly at Angel.
“Perhaps I will see you later?” Nathan asked as Angel passed by him on the way to the door.
Angel hesitated for just a moment, then returned his smile. “Perhaps. I am on my way back to Clark and Olivia’s, so if you visit them before you leave town, I will likely be there.”
Nathan grinned. “I will stop by later then.”
The chill breeze struck Angel as she exited the general store. Warmer weather was showing signs of being just around the corner, but it hadn’t yet made its appearance. As she strolled down the street, Angel closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of approaching spring—of melting ice and overcast days, of mud and the promise of new life.
Angel paused midstride as she walked down the street. She could feel it in the back of her nose—not a scent, but the barest memory of one. Her skin started to prickle almost before she began to place the memory. And then the breeze twirled around her, bringing with it the faint smell of stale smoke and alcohol and shaving soap.
Her breaths grew shallow, quiet. She stood motionless, even though every muscle in her body was tensed and the only thought in her mind was screaming to run. Finally, when the silence dragged on and the scent did not fade from her nostrils, she moved, turning slowly to face in the direction she had come.
At first she didn’t see him. There were a few people scattered on the street—a man speaking with the blacksmith about his horse’s loose shoe, two women visiting and holding cloth-covered baskets, another man letting his horse drink from the watering trough. Then a gravelly voice spoke from underneath the shaded overhang of the saloon. “Hello again, Angel-no-more.”
Angel froze in her search, still not looking directly at the man. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to face that voice again. As footsteps came closer though, she forced herself to turn and look.
Nathan.
And yet . . . it was not.
The height, the build, the angles of the face, the dark eyes. They were all the same, but it was a different sort of sameness, like how the color of new grass and the color of a sick sky were both indisputably green and yet so indisputably different. The contrast between the man’s cleanly shaven face and his otherwise slovenly appearance struck her once again. Again—and it truly was again, for now she could remember, and she couldn’t believe she could ever have forgotten.
The man stood deliberately and uncomfortably close to her, yet far enough away that Angel would not be able to step away without giving offense. Should she be afraid to offend him, to make him angry? Should she scream? The man watched her without expression. Finally, she spoke—and now she knew his name, for there was only one person he could be. “Hello again, James.”
James eyed her, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face. His words were slightly slurred as he said, “I was worried there for a minute that you’d gone and forgot me. But you haven’t forgotten—you’ve gone and learned my name.”
“Does that bother you?” Angel asked coolly.
James laughed. “Nah. In fact, I wish you’d known it before. Maybe you could have screamed it when—”
Angel slapped him, cutting him off, and his slurred words turned into a snarl as he caught her wrist in his much larger hand. He pulled her in closer to him, and she looked frantically to the sides. The smell of worn-out smoke and liquor stung her nose, and she gagged. James looked down at her in disgust. He pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length, considering her. His grip didn’t slacken.
And then Nathan was there. “Let her go.”
James’s expression turned sour, but he managed to smile as he released Angel and pushed her toward Nathan. Nathan caught her as she stumbled from the sudden force, and he held her shoulders with both hands to steady her. He held her for only a moment longer than necessary. A moment longer than he would have steadied a stranger on the street. A moment long enough for James’s eyes to narrow.
Nathan seemed to realize his hesitation had drawn James’s attention, and he pulled his hands away from Angel as though they’d been burned. James looked back and forth from Angel to Nathan. Then, his eyes widened and he slowly nodded to himself. Ignoring Nathan, he looked at Angel and asked, “Does he know?”
Angel didn’t answer.
“Know what?” Nathan asked.
Angel felt a flush creep into her cheeks, and James spoke with incredulous delight. “He doesn’t know, does he?” James laughed, almost to himself.
“What don’t I know?” Nathan repeated, his voice rising.
“Nothin’,” James said. “You don’t know nothin’.”
James stepped backward away from them, raising a hand to the brim of his hat in mock salute. “Nathan, Angel.”
His salute was a dismissal, and he turned and walked away.
Chapter 16
My brother wanted to shoot me today. I saw it in his eyes. But he couldn’t, and I know the real reason why. It had nothing to do with his so-called principles against harming an unarmed man, or even the fact that I saved his life so long ago. It was because he blames himself for the way I am.
***
Nathan had to force himself to remain where he stood and not follow after his father. If Angel hadn’t been standing beside him, white as though she’d seen a ghost—or maybe as though she herself was the ghost—Nathan wasn’t sure that he would have been able to remain in place.
He cast a sideways glance at Angel. “Did my father hurt you?”
Angel looked at him sharply, seeming to weigh her words before she answered. “I am fine.”
“Let me at least walk with you back to Clark and Olivia’s.”
Angel shook her head. “There’s no need. I am—”
Nathan cut her off. “I know you’re fine. You already said that, but I want to make sure it stays that way.”
As they walked, Nathan glanced at Angel from time to time. She looked stricken. Nathan thought she looked even more miserable than he himself felt. But then, he had had years to grow accustomed to his father. Angel had not.
When Nathan and Angel arrived at Clark and Olivia’s house, Nathan paused before opening the gate, eyeing Angel. She had not spoken a word since Nathan had insisted on walking her back to the house.
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked with concern.
Angel nodded, but avoided his eyes as she answered, “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry I can’t stay to visit you, and Clark, and Olivia. Now that I kn
ow my father’s in town, there are a few things I need to take care of on the farm—the land deed is there, and I need to make sure my father doesn’t find it. I’ll be back tomorrow.
“If you stay with Clark and Olivia, you should be safe enough. My father will likely come after me before he causes trouble anywhere else.”
“If he does come after you, will you be able to handle him alone?” Angel asked.
There was no doubt in Nathan’s voice as he answered, “Yes.”
For a moment, Angel hesitated as though she wanted to say something more, but at the last second she slipped around Nathan and through the gate, closing it between them.
“Goodbye, Nathan.”
Surprised by Angel’s abruptness, Nathan nodded a farewell. He barely had time to raise his hand to the brim of his hat before Angel walked into the house and shut the door behind herself.
Nathan placed a hand on top of the gate and let out a long breath. Even though Angel had recently begun occasionally speaking to Nathan without his directly addressing her, the distance between them didn’t seem to be diminishing. If anything, it was solidifying, and Nathan knew that once that window closed, there would be no opening it again.
***
Of course Nathan didn’t know, Angel had wanted to scream at James. How could he? Angel had only just realized the truth herself.
Angel thought back to that day at the saloon. She tried to remember coming down the stairs, the shouts and voices she must have heard as her uncle and his assailant argued. And she did remember, but no more clearly than before. Everything in the minutes before she had hit her head was fuzzy, pieced together haphazardly. She closed her eyes, trying to picture a face, then froze as her imagination filled in the holes in her memory with Nathan’s image. Angel pushed the vision away, but the image of Nathan—a Nathan with darker, emptier eyes—lingered, and the words, “I am my father’s son,” echoed over and over in her mind. She shuddered again.
No, Nathan did not know his father had been the father of Angel’s child, and she wanted to keep it that way.
But when she opened the door to Clark and Olivia’s home, Angel was immediately met by Olivia, who looked up from a sock she was darning.
“You’re back sooner than I expected. Did you meet Nathan?”
“Yes,” Angel answered, still walking.
Olivia set down her needlework. “Angel?”
Angel stopped but did not turn. “Yes?”
“What happened?”
Angel didn’t answer immediately. For once, she knew exactly the words to explain what had happened—her already tumultuous world had been upended yet again, her humiliation compounded, her misery renewed—but that did not mean she wanted to speak them. Olivia remained silent, seeming to know that if she waited long enough, patiently enough, eventually Angel would speak.
And even though Angel knew what Olivia was doing, she found herself complying. Slowly turning to face Olivia, Angel answered, her voice sounding hoarse even to her own ears. “It was James,” she whispered.
Confusion flooded over Olivia’s face. “James is back?” she asked.
Angel shook her head, her whisper dropping even lower. “No. Well, yes.” Olivia’s eyes widened but Angel continued. “But it’s not that. The baby. James was the father.’”
“Oh,” Olivia said slowly. Then, “Oh!” Her face paled and her eyes widened in understanding.
Angel watched a myriad of expressions and questions fly over Olivia’s face. “Does Nathan know?” Olivia asked.
Angel shook her head mutely.
“I see,” Olivia said softly.
Angel glanced at her sharply. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Olivia—she did. But she didn’t believe Olivia would have any reservations about passing along to Nathan—or Clark—the information Angel had just shared. “You can’t tell him,” Angel said sharply.
Olivia regarded her sadly. “The idea was not in my thoughts, my dear, and I won’t tell Nathan. But I think that you should.” She held up a hand as Angel opened her mouth to protest. “When you are ready.”
Olivia’s next words were so soft Angel barely heard them. “But I hope for both your sakes, that comes sooner than later.”
Angel stared at Olivia. “How can you say that? I’ve told you how Nathan reacted when I told him I was pregnant.” She covered her face with her hands and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t bear to think of what he would say if he found out the baby was his father’s.”
Olivia was silent for a moment, then said, “I don’t understand everything that has happened with you and Nathan. I know that he hurt you deeply. I also know that he cares for you deeply. I cannot tell you what you should do, because I am not entirely sure what is wrong, but I can tell you that you need to decide whether you believe it can be fixed.”
“And if I don’t think it can?” Angel asked.
Olivia was silent for a moment, then said, “My dear, forgive me if I speak too honestly, but if you don’t believe that what is broken with you and Nathan can be fixed, then the question you need to ask yourself is why you are still here.”
***
“James is back in town,” Clark said darkly.
“Yes, I heard,” Olivia said. “Angel and Nathan already had the misfortune of encountering him on the street this morning.”
Clark’s head jerked up. “He didn’t cause any trouble, did he? It was broad daylight.”
When Angel said nothing, Olivia spoke dryly in her place, “Has that ever deterred James?”
Clark inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.
“Was he always that way, Nathan’s father?” Angel asked.
Olivia looked surprised by Angel’s question—Angel herself was unsure what had prompted her to ask it—then turned to Clark with raised eyebrows, plainly deferring Angel’s question to him. Clark held Olivia’s eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation Angel was not privy to. When he spoke, it was only a few words.
“James was never that good. But he wasn’t always so bad.”
Clark appeared to hope that would be enough explanation, but as Angel waited in silence, he glanced at Olivia as though asking permission. When Olivia merely shrugged half-heartedly, Clark sighed and shook his head in resignation.
“Our father was a lot like James in many ways. He had a mean streak, but he hid it real well. James, well, he used to hide it well—he could be real charming.”
“Our father died when James was nineteen and I was just turned eighteen. The day of the funeral, everyone was all in a tizzy because James never showed up. ‘What kind of son doesn’t show up for his own father’s funeral?’ people asked. But I knew he was there. After everyone else left, he came out and just stood there, looking at the mound of dirt where our father had been buried. And then he kind of just laughed. He started to walk away, but then he stopped and turned and spit on the grave. And then he left. He never saw me.
“James was impulsive and jealous and vindictive—the kind to get offended easily. It was easy for him to justify just about anything if he thought someone had done—or was going to do—him wrong. When he drank, the alcohol made every bad part of him worse. He was good at hiding it though. You couldn’t tell when he’d been drinking unless something set him off.
“I remember one time James confronted me. He was convinced I was seeing Olivia behind his back—”
Olivia’s eyes widened, and she frantically shook her head with a minuscule motion. Clearly, Clark had said something she had not anticipated in his explanation to Angel. Clark cut himself off abruptly, but it was too late. The final piece had been laid out, and Angel’s lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as the puzzle came together before her eyes.
The boy Olivia had been engaged to before she married Clark. It had been Nathan’s father.
Angel felt sick. When Olivia had told Angel the story, it had been awful. Now, it was so much worse. In her story, Olivia had said there were two boys, but she had never said the
y were brothers—an omission that had probably been deliberate. Angel clenched her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms as understanding washed over her.
Clark had watched his brother pursue the woman he loved. He had watched her fall in love with his brother, watched her become engaged to him. Despite reservations, he had let them be, hoping for their happiness, for Olivia’s happiness. He had even planned to leave early for his education with the hope James would let go of his belief that Clark was seeing Olivia behind his back. And then, on the evening before Clark left for college, he had gone to say goodbye to Olivia, and he had found her how James left her—crying on the porch.
It hadn’t taken him long to realize what had happened. James—impulsive, jealous, and vindictive—had taken his anger out on Olivia. When she had seen how angry Clark was, Olivia had begged him not to go after James. Clark had succumbed to Olivia’s pleading that no one else know, and James had been left to his own.
Olivia hadn’t told Angel the rest of the story, but it was easy for Angel to fill in. When Olivia found out she was pregnant, she would have told only one person. The only person who knew what James had done, and the only person she could tell. Clark.
Clark had proposed to Olivia, who had accepted. Their wedding had been rushed, and unexpected to everyone. It would have been easy for James to start the rumors that Olivia had been unfaithful to him with his brother—why else would she be marrying Clark, instead of him, and so quickly at that?
No wonder Clark hated James.
Chapter 17
For a long time, maybe even up until this moment, I blamed him too. But the fact is, I’ve been stone-cold sober for a week now, and things don’t always look the same on the other side of the bottle.
***
“You didn’t tell me.” Angel spoke the obvious. She couldn’t bring herself to feel anger, or even surprise, that Olivia had kept this secret to herself. She suspected Olivia’s reasons for silence closely resembled her own.
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