by Jillian Hart
“But she up and left town after graduation. Wanted to get a job in New York,” Evelyn explained. “She worried if she married Austin, her life would be too small.”
“She broke his heart.” Berry’s face crinkled in sympathy, shaking her head as if remembering that sad time. “It took him a while to recover from that and by then, his friends from school were getting married. Everyone was already paired up. It’s as if he lost his chance.”
“And he hasn’t gotten another one.” Delia shook her head, too. “We all watched every pretty woman who came to town look him over and choose another.”
“When Savannah Knowles arrived—well, Savannah Brooks now—she had the pick of all the bachelors around these parts.” Evelyn leaned against the counter. “It broke my heart when she up and married someone else.”
“Same with Clara Woodrow and every new lady schoolteacher who stepped foot in this town,” Berry agreed. “It was heartbreaking to watch him put on his best suit and try to win the lady’s attention, only to be passed over.”
“He’s been looking for a wife for eight years,” Delia explained. “Eight long years. He watched his younger brothers marry and have families and still, no one chose him.”
“Why?” Willa swiped the knives carefully. Now was her chance to find out what she’d worried about from the moment the postmaster had handed her Austin’s first letter.
“Who knows? He’s certainly handsome enough.” Evelyn snapped up the knives the instant they were dried. “He makes a fine living. He’s as good as a man comes. He’s been longing for a wife and family for so long. It just hasn’t happened for him before you, Willa.”
“There’s not one thing wrong with Austin. My guess is that he’s just never been the one to turn a lady’s head,” Berry said. “You know how it is. When a man looks at you, your heart just clicks like a key turning a lock and you know he’s the one.”
“I do,” Delia agreed. “It’s a powerful thing. The moment that happened to me, I couldn’t see anyone but Derek. How does a man compete with something like that?”
“He can’t. He just has to wait until that click happens for him.” Evelyn stopped to give Willa’s hand a squeeze.
She didn’t know what the women were talking about. What click? And how could something like that matter so much in the choice of a husband? Maybe things had been different for them, they had the luxury of waiting to marry and of finding the best man they could.
“We can all tell he’s taken with you.” Berry started on the plates next, swiping quickly but effectively and slipping them with a plop into the rinse basin. “The way he looks at you.”
“His eyes soften. His whole big tough attitude softens.” Delia nodded in approval. “That’s the way it should be.”
“He cares for you, Willa.” Evelyn took a dried plate and slid it into a shelf. “Which is why we adore you so much. Austin has been lonely a long time. He deserves someone nice like you to love.”
“I don’t know if I’m all that nice.” She shrugged, wishing she could see the world the way these women did. She hated that she could never be what they thought she was. “I’m sure trying hard to be a good wife to him.”
“We know. He might not know how to thank you—” Berry began, dropping the final plate into the basin.
“Being that he’s a man,” Delia said, continuing the thought.
“But we appreciate you, Willa,” Evelyn concluded. “Delia, is Kyle asleep?”
“Yes, thankfully. I’m going to go put him down and check on the men. My guess is they’ll be in the mood for pie about now.”
“You know it’s true. The Dermot men have a notorious sweet tooth.” Berry leaned in as she scrubbed a pot. “For your future reference. If Austin is ever in a bad mood, just whip him up something sweet to eat. It works wonders every time.”
“It’s a good thing I love to bake.” Willa carefully dried the pot Berry slipped into the rinse water, not quite sure why everyone laughed. Apparently they all thought she’d made a joke. She smiled, shaking her head as she handed Evelyn the pot.
“See? You’re perfect for Austin.” Evelyn beamed. “I knew it the moment I saw you.”
“You are his best hope for happiness.” Delia rose from the chair with her sleeping son in her arms. “You have no notion how grateful we all are to you.”
“To me?” She plucked a fry pan out of the rinse water.
“Yes, we all love Austin so much.” Sincerity shone richly in Berry’s smile as she reached out and took Willa’s hand.
The contact was surprising and sisterly—something she’d never known before. The ever-present walls around her heart slid down a notch. Emotion pressed against the back of her throat. “I didn’t do anything but marry him.”
“Exactly.” Delia hesitated at the doorway, cradling her child. “Do you hear that? Those men of ours must be having a rip-roaring time.”
“I do hear that. Laughter.” Evelyn tilted her head. “I like it. Come on, Willa, put that pan down and we’ll take them the dessert we promised.”
The pan clunked against the counter and she listened to the bark of male laughter muffled through the walls of the house. Her stomach clenched up tight, fighting the common-day images that rose up from her memory. Jed and his buddies drinking in the yard, the hot summer wind swirling around them while the wheat stood too long in the fields, unharvested. Jed rising up on wobbly feet, his fist bunched to strike her as he demanded she fetch another whiskey bottle out of the cellar. Jed hung-over the next morning, taking his belt to her because there was no more alcohol in the cellar.
Those were the days she’d walked the two miles to town and wished with all the depth of her being that she could simply keep on walking. But she knew better. Jed would have hunted her down. He never would have let her go.
“Oh, I think May will surprise us all.” Delia’s voice cut into Willa’s thoughts as deftly as the knife she used to slice the fragrant pie. “Just when you think winter will never end, when it’s at its meanest, that’s when the season has turned. The best springs always follow a hard winter.”
“You are an eternal optimist, my dear,” Berry called over her shoulder, scrubbing at the last of the pots. “I’m afraid this winter will go on forever. Whatever start spring got before this cold spell is gone.”
“It just feels that way.” Evelyn took down a stack of dessert plates from the carved oak cabinets and set them on the work table. “Winter always ends. I’m voting for a warm May. I’ve been in the mood for a picnic. I can almost feel the bright sun on my face.”
The conversation resumed and Willa tried to pay attention as she held the dishes one by one for Delia to fill with thick slabs of blueberry pie. Willa couldn’t stop worrying about what she was going to find in the library. Austin loud. Austin mean. Austin cruel. She simply couldn’t envision it. She couldn’t stand to try.
“There. That’s enough. Let’s go serve them. C’mon, Willa.” Delia scooped up half the plates and apparently expected her to do the same.
Tension had twisted up her muscles in so many knots it was a wonder she could shuffle her feet forward. The plates wobbled in her hands as she took one uncertain step after another. Somehow she put one shoe in front of the other to trail Delia through the house.
She smiled at the children’s merriment as the train crashed spectacularly—again—in the parlor. The crystal lamp covers rattled as she passed through the dining room and her heart struggled against her rib cage like a trapped bird desperate to get out.
She smelled the cigar smoke before she saw it curling in the air. She stepped into the male territory of the library and braced for the worst. Willa didn’t dare lift her gaze to search for him as she followed Delia’s skirt into the room.
Austin. She could feel his gaze on her, as tangible as a touch to the side of her face. His presen
ce pulled on her, but she kept her eyes down. The last thing she wanted to see was her husband with a drink in his hand and alcohol glazing his eyes. She was stiff with tension she could barely lower a plate to hand it to Mr. Dermot. It wobbled while she waited for him to take it.
“Why, this looks as delicious as it smells.” Austin’s father laid his cigar to rest in an ashtray. “Delia, you’ve outdone yourself. This is a treat.”
“That’s the last of my dried berries. I can’t wait for summer.” Delia’s voice came as if from miles away. “Willa, we’ll have to show you all our favorite wild berry-picking spots. In fact, I’m going to team up with Berry and Evelyn and we’ll bring you plantings for your own blueberries, strawberries and raspberries. We all get together and make jam.”
“That sounds nice.” Her lips felt numb, and her voice felt strained. It didn’t sound like her own. She was aware of Austin with every breath she took. She could see the tip of his shoes at the edge of her vision, so close she could reach out and touch him.
“This is fine, thank you, Willa.” Mr. Dermot took charge of his plate. “You ladies spoil us more than we deserve.”
“You’re right about that,” Delia teased easily.
Willa could smell the whiskey as she turned toward Austin with his plate. Her pulse thundered in her ears with thick, hollow beats. Disappointment rocked through her so hard, her hand trembled with every thud of her heartbeat as she held out his plate to him.
“Hey there.” His rich baritone rang low and intimate, only for her. He didn’t sound drunk at all. “I hope Evelyn and the girls aren’t overwhelming you.”
“They’ve been wonderful.” His voice tempted her to look up at him, but she had to resist. She kept her chin down, staring at the shine of his boots and the machine-made stitches hemming his denims. She saw his strong, well-shaped hand catch the rim of the plate, so she let go. Swallowing hard against her rising hopelessness, she took a step back, bobbed her head and whirled away.
His other hand snared her wrist, manacling her to him, refusing to let her go. Trapping her, using his greater strength against her. She should have known. Her chin slipped down lower, the conversations around the room were indistinguishable buzzes. She wasn’t aware of anyone else when Austin rose from his chair.
Her heart stopped beating and she froze, trapped. His massive granite form towered over her, so close she could feel the fan of his breath against her nape. He gave a little tug, spinning her around to face him, so strong she could not stop him.
“Hey.” His thumb brushed the underside of her jaw, tilting her chin gently up to bring her gaze to his. “Are you all right?”
She stared into his blue depths, realizing they were still just as clear as she’d ever seen them. Kind, filled with concern, he searched her face as if he thought he could read what was wrong there. On the small table next to his armchair sat a snifter of alcohol a few inches deep. Apparently Austin did not drink his whiskey in one long gulp. She took in the rest of the room, noticing other glasses mostly untouched and cigars sat smoking away. The men were talking about some upcoming horse race. Mr. Dermot dug into his pie and the other men were too busy talking to eat.
This was nothing like what she expected. Air rushed out of her lungs, breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. This was a different scene than Jed holding his tin cup sloshing over with cheap alcohol and arguing with his buddies who were doing the same, the lot of them guzzling until they were too drunk to stand up on their own.
“Is the morning sickness troubling you?” His thumb trailed along the line of her jaw, a slow and steady stroke that left a blaze of sensation across her skin and warmed away her fears.
“No, I just need a little more tea, that’s all.” She couldn’t help leaning into his touch, just a little, so grateful for this man. So thankful he was more than she could ever expect.
Far more than she ever deserved.
Austin Dermot wasn’t the type of man to drink until he was drunk. She should have known. She swallowed hard, hoping her voice sounded normal when she spoke. “I’m sure all I need is a slice of that pie.”
“It does look good enough to fix any ailment.” Austin’s hand curled around her neck, gently cradling her. It was a kind touch and caring.
She didn’t know a touch could feel that way.
“You say the word and we can leave anytime.” He leaned in, speaking against the shell of her ear. “I know you may need to lie down and rest. If you don’t feel comfortable doing it here, I’ll be glad to drive you home.”
“Oh, I don’t want to take you away from your family.” Her hand seemed to lift of its own accord and land on the center of his chest. Not to push him away or to act as a barrier between them, but simply to touch him. “I’d like to stay.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. It was hard not to be tempted by the kindness of his face and mellow note in his voice—tempted to believe in fairy tales. If she were a different woman, maybe as sheltered as Evelyn had been or as confident as Delia and Berry, it would be easy to spin romances out of a man’s steady kindness.
But she could not.
Whatever this was that she felt, it had to be relief. Relief that Austin was a man who could handle his whiskey. Relief that his closeness and his touch no longer frightened her. Relief that she hadn’t disappointed him in front of his family, as she’d sworn not to do. That was what mattered, and not the warm tingle of sensation gathering beneath the press of his palm to her neck.
“When Berry learned that I liked to knit, she promised to show me a new stitch, something I’ve always wanted to learn how to do.” She didn’t lift her hand from his chest and stayed in his shadow. His heart thudded reliably. She could count the beats. It was an intimate thing, to feel those metered thu-thumps that made the moment between them real and changing. Austin was no longer a stranger, but a man she wanted to know.
Chapter Eleven
“That’s a real pretty gal you married.” Pa knelt to give the harness buckle a tug. Cold wind sailed through the barn doors, but nothing could erase the fatherly pride on the man’s face as he straightened. “You did real fine, son.”
“I got lucky.” He tried to keep his grin in place as his gaze drifted across the snowy yard to the light spilling from the house’s windows. He turned away, downhearted. What would his father think if he knew the truth? Pressure built behind his ribs as he took charge of Calvin’s reins and did his best to keep his disappointments hidden.
“You sure did, you big oaf,” Brant teased, leading his horse and sleigh toward the open double doors. “What a lady like that was doing advertising for a husband is anyone’s guess.”
“She must have been real desperate.” Derek joined in jovially, backing his gelding into his sleigh’s traces. “At least now he can commiserate with us married men.”
“Yep, the old ball and chain is watching.” Brant laughed as a distant voice called out to him.
“I heard that, buddy, and if you want a hot supper tonight you’ll rephrase that.” Berry must be on her way with the kids.
“Pa! Pa!” Two little boys tumbled into sight.
“Do we getta drive Milton?” Stewart asked.
“Can we?” Arthur pleaded.
“That depends if you picked up all your toys for grandpa.” Brant swooped each son off the ground, one in each arm.
“We did!” Stewart wrapped his arms around Brant’s neck.
“We did,” Arthur echoed, his brow serious.
“They did a fine job picking up.” Berry carried a small basket, leftovers from the noon meal. She slipped it onto the floorboards and waited while her husband settled the boys on the seat. Love shone on her face, and love answered in Brant’s eyes when he helped his wife into the sleigh.
Don’t think about what you haven’t got, Austin told h
imself firmly. No sense in imagining he might have the same one day. That he would be taking his own firstborn in his arms, the way Derek had done when his children entered the barn. The sense of unity among Brant’s family was so strong and the connection so unbreakable that it changed the air in the barn and chased the cold from the wind.
“Willa.” Her name cracked across his tongue. She seemed alone somehow, walking up by herself as the families settled into their sleighs. The little boys talked in high, sweet voices and the babe gave a squall before falling back to sleep.
She came to him like a shadow, but it wasn’t sadness she brought with her. Life sparkled in the solemn blue eyes that met his. The curve of her mouth looked natural and easy, as if she’d smiled a lot with the other women. He held her elbow to help her into the sleigh and the distance between them wasn’t as great when she gazed up at him.
“Did you have a good time with your brothers?” she asked. “We could hear you men laughing all the way into the parlor.”
He nodded, leaned in to tuck the driving robes around her. The ride home was bound to be chilly. “How did your knitting go?”
“Wonderful. I’m so glad I kept a few of my knitting needles instead of selling them when I was h-hungry.” Her voice lowered over that word. “I’m itching to start a new project.”
“It might be fun for you to pick out what you need at the mercantile, next time you’re in town.”
“Maybe.”
There wasn’t much he could do for her. He couldn’t lean down and kiss her rosebud lips. He couldn’t lay a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. He couldn’t heal what had been wounded in her. But knitting supplies? That he could afford. “If it wasn’t so cold out, I’d take you and the mare out for a driving lesson.”
“This weather won’t last forever.”
Was that hope in her voice? He tucked the edges of the robe around her more tightly, taking care of her in this small way. He straightened, hating to step away from her even if it was only to circle around to the other side of the sleigh.