by Jodi Thomas
“Where’s the sad-eyed girl?” Wolf asked, accounting for each houseguest. Hoping they were finally alone.
“She’s on the back porch with Charlie. I asked her to take him a blanket after she put Callie Ann to bed. When I checked, they were sitting in the dark, talking.” Molly brushed against his shoulder as she poured milk.
“That’s the best way to talk to Charlie.” Wolf thanked her for the meal with a slight touch along her arm. “The aunts get used to him yet?”
“No. Henrietta told me they’ll cut their first visit to Texas short. I suspect he has something to do with it.”
Wolf looked hopeful. “Short, as in they are leaving tomorrow or the next day?”
Molly shrugged. “I’ve only known them to come for a ‘short’ visit once before.”
“How long did they stay that time?”
“They came to my father’s farm in ’forty-three, and they haven’t officially left yet, so I’m not sure.”
Molly laughed, but Wolf didn’t catch the humor. She thought he looked too tired to eat, though he tried a few bites while watching her every movement.
“I’ll be right back,” Molly said, already running upstairs. She didn’t have to glance back; she knew he stared at her.
A few minutes later, she returned, wearing her robe and carrying a strip of cotton. She’d thought it wise to change clothes before he shared the bedroom with her. Though she guessed it wouldn’t matter after what he’d seen the night before.
Her hands began to shake at the thought that it was almost time for them to go upstairs. Together. She twisted the cotton in her fingers and moved toward him. “I’d like to put a clean dressing on that wound.”
He studied her as if he thought she might like to twist the strip around his throat, but he didn’t move.
She waited while he drank the last of his milk, then cut the bandage away with kitchen scissors.
As she patted the stitches clean of a few drops of dried blood, she felt his breathing change and knew he was aware of how close she stood above him. Almost touching, almost embracing.
“You smell wonderful,” he said, trying to stay still while she worked. “Like all the good things that ever happened to me rolled up together and made into a perfume.”
“You’re healing nicely.” She moved her fingers through his hair to push it back, not knowing how to respond to his words. “Does the wound still give you pain?”
“Some,” he answered. “But right now I can’t say I’m giving it much thought.” He moved his hand along her waist to the center of her back.
“I could mix up something over at Dr. Washburn’s office that would help with headaches.”
“It’ll ease,” he mumbled, then closed his eyes and smiled as she continued to move her fingers through his hair. “I’ve been ordered to stay in town and rest for the next few days.”
“That’s for the best, dear.” She used the endearment because that’s what she should do. He was her husband, and if she were to be his wife she had to act the part.
“Why do you do that?” he asked, without opening his eyes.
“Do what?”
“Move your fingers through my hair.”
Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. It feels good.”
Suddenly, he drew her close and buried his face into the fabric of her robe. “You feel good, so good to me, Molly.”
As she’d promised, she didn’t pull away.
“There is so much that needs saying.” He guided her into his lap. “So much I’d like to tell you, but I don’t know the words.”
Molly tried to relax. “Maybe you should just say them. I’m a good listener.”
He leaned close. “I like you being near. I like being able to touch you and hold you like this.” He was lost for a moment in his thoughts. “After all the years of war and fighting, I need the peace I find when you’re at my side.”
She felt as if he’d given her a gift. She knew he was not a man of words, but somehow he’d managed. She wasn’t sure she could answer. She did like the way his thick hair felt between her fingers, and she was growing used to the length. His beard was much shorter than when they’d met, and she was surprised to find it soft. She liked how she felt protected in his arms.
But what else could she tell this man? She didn’t love him. She wasn’t sure she ever would. But he was good and kind. It would only hurt his feelings if she told him that she’d wanted to be a real wife because she didn’t want to end up like her aunts, living on yesterdays, dried up on life. He’d been a good friend. He’d be a good husband. But never the love of her heart.
Without a word, he stood and lifted her in his arms. He carried her upstairs and into their room as quietly as he could.
The bed had been turned back on one side and a lamp burned brightly on the nightstand. Wolf laid her down and touched her lips, silently asking her not to speak.
He closed the door and stripped to the waist. He could feel her watching him as he washed at the stand near the windows. Her things were on one side of the stand. She’d laid his on the other, including the razor and strop he carried but never used.
If he’d had a nightshirt, he would have worn one for the first time. He pulled off his gun belt and boots, but left his trousers on. He wasn’t sure how much she’d want to see of him.
When he turned the lamp down, the last flicker of light caught in her eyes, bright and frightened.
“Are you sure you want this, Molly?” He couldn’t touch her unless he was sure she was willing. “You don’t have to do this to keep me here. I’ll stick to our original bargain. The aunts need never know.”
“I’m not doing this because of the aunts or anyone else in this town. I want you to touch me the way a man touches a woman.”
He wanted to cry out, “Why?” But he wasn’t sure he could bear to hear the answer. Sitting beside her, he tugged at her robe until it opened to reveal a plain white nightgown. She was so still, he couldn’t tell if she breathed.
“Don’t be afraid.” He smoothed the robe away.
“I’m not,” she lied.
“I would never hurt you.”
“I know.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled into her hair.
He moved the back of his hand over her cheek. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”
“Will you shave?”
“No.” He laughed as he lowered his mouth to hers. Ever so lightly, he kissed her lips. “But I’ll be careful.”
Molly moved an inch away. “Your beard tickles.”
He gently pulled her mouth back to his. “You’ll get used to it, darlin’.” This time when he kissed her, she didn’t turn away.
She’d expected to feel nothing, to offer only acceptance, but when he kissed her a warmth spread through her. His lips were gentle, tender, not demanding as she’d felt before when he’d pulled her onto his horse to kiss her good-bye.
For a long while, he just kissed her, letting her grow used to him. She gripped handfuls of covers, preparing for what was to come. But nothing happened. He didn’t touch her except with the kiss.
Finally, he rolled away. “Good night, Molly,” he said with his back to her.
“Aren’t you going to do more?” She could have been no more shocked if he’d slapped her. “I thought you wanted me.”
Twisting onto his back, he lay beside her so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, “I do want you, but it’s no good unless you want me.”
“I want you.” She tried to sound convincing.
“No, you don’t.” He met her lie straight on. “You want to be married. Maybe you want to know what you missed by never marrying. Maybe you just don’t want to die an old maid. I don’t know, but one thing I do know is you don’t want me.”
“Yes, I do.” She resented the accusation that she was just using him, even if he had voiced the very thoughts she’d written in her journal.
“I could be any man.” His words were low and
blended in anger and hurt. “Why don’t you go get Charlie Filmore out on the porch? Anyone will do.”
“No. I married you. I will sleep with you.”
“Do you love me?” The words seemed to cut in his throat as he tried to get them out.
“I can learn.” She tried, but she couldn’t lie about that. “You are the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Have children with. Grow old with.”
She knew he didn’t believe her and she called herself a hundred kinds of fool for trying to pretend a “real marriage.” This marriage was no more real than her dreams of Benjamin had been.
“Molly?” he finally asked in a voice that sounded low and sad. “What color are my eyes?”
Tears flooded her view as she tried to see him through the shadows. She’d looked at him dozens of times. They’d eaten across from one another. She’d treated his wound only inches from his eyes. She’d seen him stare at her and felt him watching her. But if her life depended on it, she couldn’t have sworn to the color of his eyes.
“What color are my eyes?” he said again.
She couldn’t guess. What if she were wrong?
Wolf stretched across her and turned up the lamp. Warm brown eyes stared down at her with pain no wound to his body could cause.
“Brown,” she whispered and closed her own eyes tight. Brown! she screamed inside. Brown, the same color as Benjamin’s.
TWENTY-ONE
WOLF WASN’T SURE. BUT HE THOUGHT NEITHER HE nor Molly slept all night. He fought the urge to comfort her as he lay only inches away. Several times, he thought of reaching out to Molly, pulling her into his arms and just holding her until dawn. But he couldn’t. He knew if he did, he’d make love to her. He’d make her his forever.
He could see the washstand outlined against the window light. His razor and strop rested by the bowl. All he had to do was get out of bed and shave. She wanted Benjamin. She loved Benjamin. He could give her the man she waited for. He could play the role if it made her happy.
Or could he? She didn’t love him. It was clear from her inability to answer about the color of his eyes, she didn’t even look at him. How could he make love to her, or hold her, or even give her the part of him that was Benjamin, when she was willing to give herself to a man she didn’t love? Him.
About dawn, Wolf decided she was mad, and it was contagious. If he had an ounce of sense left in his battered brain, he would’ve made love to her. Hell, he imagined it so often, the act should’ve been routine.
Only nothing had been routine since the day he found her in Austin. Why should the new day be any different? He rolled out of bed.
He knew she watched him. She was no more asleep than he had been all night. But he acted as if he were trying carefully not to wake her. He even picked up his jacket and boots and backed from the room without a sound, so she wouldn’t guess he knew.
Aunt Henrietta sat in the hall chair like a guard. Wolf glanced up, and the surprise of seeing her so close almost made him drop his belongings.
“Do you always tiptoe out of a room at dawn, Captain Hayward?” Henrietta had a way of asking questions that reminded him of an interrogation.
“Old habits are hard to break.” He winked.
She fought it, but a smile cracked her face into a thousand tiny wrinkles. “I guess it’s none of my business, is it?”
“I’d say you’re a very wise woman.” On a good morning he woke up grumpy. This morning, without sleep, he was downright irritable.
Henrietta, however, seemed to be enjoying herself for the first time since she arrived. “I always have a respect for someone more blunt than me.”
“I would guess, madam, you respect very few people.”
This time she laughed out loud. “Truer words were never spoken. The world is made up of fools and nitwits. It’s my job to point out the differences.”
He groaned. He had to make an effort with Molly’s aunts no matter how crotchety they were. After all, they were her only kin. “Care to accompany me down the street where we can have some breakfast?”
Her smile widened. “It’s been a long time—a very long time—since a gentleman has asked me out. We might as well, Captain. It appears everyone else in this house plans to sleep ’til noon. A habit I find deplorable.”
Wolf pulled on his boots without comment.
“You are planning to change clothes, sir?” She raised an eyebrow so high it almost disappeared into her hairline.
“I am not,” he answered. “They wouldn’t recognize me at the cafe if I dressed any differently.”
“Then you’ll shave,” she responded. “A clean-shaven man is an honest man.”
“Why do people keep asking me to shave?” Wolf mumbled. “No, Miss Henrietta, I do not plan to shave or change my habits to please anyone in this household. Do you wish to decline my invitation?”
“No.” She glared at him as if he’d challenged her.
He wouldn’t put it past her to sneak into his room one night and try to shave him to teach him a lesson.
He offered his arm and they marched down the stairs in silence. Ten minutes later they were eating at Noma’s. Wolf ordered a half-dozen eggs and a pound of bacon with all the trimmings, including cinnamon rolls. Henrietta ordered one boiled egg and dry toast.
She was from the era when ladies ate like birds. Wolf noticed that when his basket of biscuits was delivered, she reluctantly took one after he insisted, then two, then one with gravy just to try Noma’s cooking, then one with just butter and jam to be polite because he was still eating.
By the time the cinnamon rolls arrived, the bird appetite had flown. They split the basket.
An hour later, they walked home with a plate of rolls for the sleeping household. Henrietta took his arm but didn’t try to make conversation. Wolf couldn’t help but wonder what she’d be like if he took her to a saloon one night. But he figured even if he could get her to go, Molly would probably kill him.
For a moment, he saw the girl beneath the years. He could almost picture what she must’ve been like with her young lover. Wolf thought he saw sadness still etched into her eyes from the day she had to give up her Herbert.
As they reached the house, a thought rolled around in his mind. If he could charm Henrietta, surely he could do the same to Molly. He was older and wiser than he’d been on that train platform all those years ago. If he tried, he could make her love him and forget all about Benjamin.
Molly awoke gradually, feeling the warmth of the noonday sun in the shadowy bedroom. Someone had drawn the curtains and let her sleep.
She jumped out of bed as if she’d been caught in a crime. Minutes later, she desperately tried to tie up her hair as she ran down the stairs.
“Good morning, Molly,” Aunt Alvina’s voice sang from the parlor where she sat surrounded by quilt squares.
“Good afternoon,” Henrietta added.
“I’m sorry.” Molly felt like a child again, facing her aunts. “I overslept.”
“It’s quite all right,” Alvina assured her. “Your husband said you needed rest.” The way she said the word rest seemed to be asking a question. “He told us to help Early look after Callie Ann.”
“Told us, mind you. Ordered us to ‘keep it down’—as if we were drunken troops and not two ladies. How much noise does he think we’ll make piecing quilt squares?” Henrietta snapped. “And Alvina, stop hinting about Molly resting. It’s too early in the marriage for that kind of thing to happen.”
“The first one can come anytime, I’ve heard. It’s the second one that takes nine months.”
Molly couldn’t believe they were talking about her as if she weren’t standing in the room.
“Besides, it’s the woman who has mood changes, not the husband.”
“His mood hasn’t changed,” Henrietta retorted. “He’s the bossiest man I’ve ever seen. Ordering us around.”
“He did?” No one had dared give the aunts an order since her father died.
�
�He left you a note.” Henrietta handed her a sealed envelope. “Didn’t mention what was in it.”
Molly slowly opened the note, almost expecting words of farewell. She wouldn’t blame him. What kind of wife doesn’t even know the color of her husband’s eyes?
“What does it say?” Henrietta asked. “That is, if you don’t mind us knowing.”
Alvina frowned. “It wouldn’t be proper for us to know, if it’s a love letter.”
Henrietta shook her head. “Why would a man who just left the woman two hours ago write her a love letter?”
“Why would he write one at all when he knew we’d be standing right here to tell her anything that needs telling?”
“Excuse me,” Molly whispered as she turned back to the stairs. “I’ll only be a minute.”
She hurried to her room and closed the door. She would read no further with her aunts watching her. If he were ending their relationship, her aunts would be able to see it in her face. She couldn’t bear that.
Wolf’s handwriting was as bold and powerful as the man. “Dear Molly,” he started. There were several lines where he began sentences and stopped, crossing out words. Halfway down the page a note read, “If either of us is to survive this marriage, we have to talk, alone. You said you can drive a team. I am counting on that being the truth. Follow the directions closely, and be alone.” The rest of the note contained carefully laid out instructions.
When Molly returned downstairs, the aunts bombarded her with questions, but she only said that all was in order and she had to meet Wolf concerning business. For once, they didn’t push.
She stepped onto the porch, putting on her gloves. Charlie waited beside a borrowed buggy. Since the fire, she’d noticed him slowly sobering up, as if it took weeks to dry out after all the years of drinking. People respected what he’d done, saving her life. With that respect came responsibility. Folks even spoke to him on the street, and he was expected to answer. A man who’s a hero has to act the part.
He told her Wolf had asked him to have a wagon or buggy ready for her when she came outside.