"Them boys don't see it coming. Give me the pole and I'll hold the boat," Ben said quietly.
Peter nodded, handed over his pole, and began to strip off his shirt and shoes. Janice held her breath. It had never occurred to her to ask if Peter could swim. She had never seen him in anything less than a suit back in Cutlerville. Surely, somewhere along the way he had learned to swim as she never had.
He dived into the water and reached the log in a few powerful strokes. She breathed again, but only until she realized he was riding the log to steer it from the boys. He could be washed out into the middle of the river at any moment. It didn't seem to concern anyone else. They were cheering and shouting and jumping up and down, and Janice could only watch her husband's dripping hair and wide shoulders float further away.
Manuel and Ben tried to pole the boat closer to the boys. The youngest was growing weary, and Janice leaned over the edge in an effort to reach him. Her arms weren't quite long enough.
Sending the log past the boat, Peter let it go and began the swim back against the current. Janice's cries as one small head bobbed beneath the water caught his ear faster than all the other yells. She was nearly half out of the boat and reaching for the Monteigne boy struggling up for air. With a curse of his own, he struck out faster.
He grabbed the boy's hair just before he could go down again. Hauling him up, he shoved him toward Janice's waiting arms. She caught the boy and with the help of all the others managed to haul him into the boat.
He glanced around to make certain the other two boys pulled themselves up, then grabbed the side and climbed back in.
Janice immediately left the boy to Alicia and kneeled beside Peter, using her handkerchief to mop the water from his eyes. "I was afraid you couldn't swim," she murmured.
Peter sprawled on his elbows against the boards to catch his breath. The sun's rays heated his skin and turned the drops of moisture on his chest to steam, but the concern behind his wife's voice made his insides boil. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her down on top of him.
"I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't jump into a river if I couldn't swim."
"Or grab a half-broke horse unless you could ride. I know." She mopped his face with the damp cambric. "But I'm used to worrying."
"And I'm giving you just one more person to worry about." Peter added another layer to his understanding of this complex woman he called wife. "I don't suppose it will help to tell you not to worry anymore, that I'll take care of everything?"
"Our ideas on what constitutes 'taking care of' tend to differ, I'm afraid. It's too late to change my ways," she admitted.
Peter pulled her head down until their lips met. Janice only resisted briefly, then kissed him back to the cheers of their audience. When he released her, he whispered, "It's never too late, Mrs. Mulloney," in a voice that only she could hear.
Janice blushed and moved away to scold the adventurous trio.
Chapter 20
The day progressed with much hilarity after that. Janice was unaccustomed to spending even one day—and certainly not several—doing nothing but enjoying herself. She packed and unpacked picnic baskets, took off her shoes and waded out into the water to help pull in fish caught by small hands, and did her best to keep her unruly charges clean and dry. But it was still more like play than work, and she found herself just sitting at the river's edge, laughing at the antics of the children.
During one of those moments, Peter dropped down on a rock beside her. "I love hearing you laugh," he murmured, adjusting her broad-brimmed hat to better shade her nose. "You ought to do it more often."
"Ho! Listen to the pot calling the kettle black." She turned an impish grin up to him. She had never grinned at a man in her life, or at least not in the last ten years, but something about the way Peter looked at her made it easy.
These idle days were corrupting her. Or maybe it was her husband. She had actually giggled at him last night when Tyler had caught them kissing on the porch. And she had actually been kissing him. She had been contemplating a lot more than kissing him until she remembered herself. She would do well to remember herself now, but it didn't seem necessary on this tiny island filled with children. She was safe here.
"I laugh," he demurred. "I laugh all the time."
"You most certainly do not, Peter Aloysius Mulloney. That's a whopper of a fib. You hardly even smiled when we first met. And I can only remember you laughing once since then."
"Hmmm." He propped his chin on his fist while he pondered that thought. "That makes me sound like a proper stuffed shirt."
"You are. You always have been. I can remember meeting my sister at your father's store, and you would be officiating some argument between the clerks or pompously steering some rich old lady to her carriage. You always looked as if your spine were made of steel."
He gave her a look of amused incredulity. "And you married me anyway? What does that say about you?"
"Not very much, I'm afraid," Janice admitted willingly. "I was scared and I took the easy way out. I'm not particularly proud of myself."
The amusement fled his face. "Do you really despise me that much?"
If she didn't look at him, she could almost answer affirmatively. She had spoken lightly, but she could remember other things about those times she had seen him back in Cutlerville. She could remember standing in the street, dripping wet from the rain, afraid to enter the hallowed doors of Mulloney's elegant department store. Instead, she had waited outside to walk her sister home and watched as Peter rode off in his fancy carriage, his top hat virtually untouched by the weather since his carriage driver had held an umbrella over him. He hadn't even been aware of her existence then. She was just another one of the town's pathetic poor.
There were other things to despise him for, like the rent collector who beat women. Or the derelict houses his family refused to repair. There were the low wages and the hideous working conditions. The list could go on into eternity if she really wished to work at it. But she didn't. She couldn't quite match the man beside her with her list of grievances. The man she had despised in Cutlerville couldn't be the same man who had dived into the filthy river to save a boy he scarcely even knew. She didn't know who this man was that she had married.
"I don't know you well enough to despise you," she finally answered.
"But you lived in Cutlerville, and your sister works at the store. You lived in those houses that belonged to my father, didn't you? Even my fiancée hated me when she found out about those houses, and she didn't have to live in them."
Janice looked up at him with curiosity at the tone of bitterness she heard underlying his words. "Did you love her very much? Is that why you left town?"
Peter picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the water. One of the boys yelled in appreciation and attempted to better his feat. A stone-skipping contest erupted not yards away from them, but he didn't seem aware of it.
"I didn't even know her. Our fathers wanted us to marry, and I saw the opportunity to get out from under my father's thumb if I acquired her share of the factory. She suited what I thought I would need in a wife. It didn't take long to figure out that I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew it wasn't Georgie. I left Cutlerville because I was tired."
"Tired?" Janice could scarcely keep the surprise out of her voice.
"Tired of trying to protect my brothers from my father's tirades. Tired of hiding the truth from my mother. Tired of fighting his battles. Tired of doing what he told me. Tired of losing my self-respect. I should have fought harder after I learned about those tenant houses. I should have quit Mulloney's when I realized I couldn't stop my father. I'm sorry I dumped it all on Daniel, but he seemed much better prepared to deal with all of it than I was at the time."
"And he wanted it," Janice responded. "He loves having the family he never knew. He's thriving on what you considered punishment. You needn't feel guilty about leaving your family to Daniel."
She had only come to know Daniel th
ose last few months before she left Cutlerville, but Daniel was an easy person to know. Perhaps Peter's brother had been fortunate in being raised as a bastard orphan instead of being ground under the relentless thumb of Artemis Mulloney as Peter had.
Peter managed a smile. "Daniel's certainly got our father over a barrel, anyway. Anytime the old man wants to do anything against Daniel's high and mighty principles, Daniel threatens to expose him in the newspaper. And the old man can't fire him. The boys are too young and don't have Daniel's experience, and Dad still can't get about without the help of a wheelchair. So he's stuck with Daniel. I'd almost like to go back there someday and watch them in action."
Janice worried at a loose thread in her skirt. "That's one of the reasons we'll never suit. I couldn't go back with you."
The stone Peter had started to skip fell with a loud plop into the water. The boys jeered at his failure, but he didn't notice. He stared at the woman by his side. "Why in hell not?"
Janice broke off the thread and twisted it around her finger. "I've made it from slum to schoolteacher, but I don't think I could make it as far as high society. My parents came from respectable but poor families. They taught us to speak correctly and use proper manners and such, but we never moved in the kind of circles that your family belongs to. If we'd met back in Cutlerville, you would never have looked at me."
That was probably true, but if they'd met in Cutlerville, he wouldn't have been sitting in a jail cell charged with arson either. Texas and Ohio were worlds apart in more ways than one. Peter picked up a handful of stones and skipped them methodically, one by one across the water, each one taking more leaps than the next.
"If that's the way you feel about it, we won't go back to Ohio," he announced after several minutes of thought. "I don't belong back there anymore either."
"That's ridiculous. Your family is back there," Janice objected strongly.
"So is yours." He threw her a look. "I won't fit in with your family any better."
Well, that was no more than the truth. Her brother would probably try to strangle him and her sister would spit on his shoes. Janice couldn't help a curt laugh at the thought.
The laugh went unnoticed when one of the younger Monteignes took that opportunity to fall into the river. Both Janice and Peter were running toward this latest disaster before their differences could sink in.
Manuel fished the boy out of the water without mishap, but Janice declared it was time to head back home. Two of the youngest fell asleep with their heads in her lap before the boat had poled from shore. Janice leaned against the boat railing and stroked their heads. For the first time in a long time, she felt an odd contentment.
She watched Betsy and one of the Harding boys compare the treasures they had collected on the island, and she smiled. Betsy didn't even know what the words "high society" meant. She would remember very little of the first five years of her life as time went on. But she would remember riding with the Hardings and fishing with the Monteignes and playing tag with Benjamin's cousins. The fact that all of them had far more money than Janice didn't occur to any of these children any more than the fact that they were white and black and brown. That was the way it should be.
Peter and Manuel carried the sleeping toddlers to the wagon when they reached the shore. Judging by the lack of noise, the whole lot of them were ready for naps. Most of the boys elected to walk back to the house rather than ride in the wagon with "girls," but the youngest settled in beside Ben and demanded a story. Janice sat next to Peter on the wagon seat and listened with quiet appreciation as the horse pulled them home and Ben spun a tale of talking rabbits and foxes.
The day had been an illuminating one in many respects, but Janice was afraid to consider what the repercussions might be. Nothing had changed. She had a husband who was broke and without a job, and she wasn't in much better shape. Peter was still set on borrowing money to gamble on a horse race so he could sink the proceeds into an even bigger gamble—a gold mine. Maybe she couldn't despise him as she ought, and maybe he was a stronger man than she thought, but that didn't change the basic situation. They couldn't even introduce each other to their respective families, for pity's sake. What in the world had she been thinking when she married the man?
She had been thinking she would be rich, that's what she'd been thinking. She wasn't at all proud of that decision. Of course, she'd been terrified of being thrown out an the street without a job too. It had only seemed fitting that Peter be made to pay for what she suffered. And he wasn't hurting any from her decision. He had wanted a wife who could cook, and she could do far more than cook. He'd got a good end to his bargain.
Except for the one little matter that she didn't want to think about just yet.
Evie and Carmen came running out of the house to carry their young ones off to their beds. The older ones ran off to new mischief. The men helped Ben to a rocker on the porch and settled down to swap fish stories until supper.
Peter caught up with Janice as she started up the stairs to the tower to change clothes and freshen up.
"There's time for a little nap before supper," he murmured suggestively, leaning one arm against the wall and pressing a kiss to her temple.
Janice felt the heat creeping up in her cheeks, and she looked at anything but the man beside her. "Not yet. Not tonight." She knew she couldn't put him off much longer, but the decision she had to make was an enormous one. It was one she should have made before she agreed to marry him. Of course, circumstances were different now.
Peter brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Tomorrow? They're having a barn dance tomorrow night. We've never danced, Jenny. You can dance with every man there and pretend you're free for a while. I'll court you. I'll punch out any man who dares dance with you twice. I'll sweep you off your feet. And then we'll come back here and I'll make love to you all night long."
His voice was a seductive velvet that crept up and down her spine. He did this deliberately, Janice knew, but she couldn't fault him for trying. He hadn't protested all week when she'd held him off. He was giving her another day. But that was the day before he meant to leave. They would have one night together. Wouldn't it be better to wait?
She didn't think he would. She shivered as Peter's mouth found the corner of her lips. He took her silence as acquiescence. His lips swallowed any protest she might have made.
Janice gave herself up to the luxury of his kiss. She was coming to like the fiery touch of Peter's mouth and hands too much. She closed her eyes and let the heat surge through her, felt his palm mold itself to her breast, and understood the spiral of need curling through her middle. In only a matter of time, he would be inside her again. He wouldn't let her escape this time.
The effect of Peter's kisses didn't fade with the passage of time or the light of a new day. The fact that he didn't lose a single opportunity to refresh her memory didn't help. He had decided tonight was the night he would stake his claim, and he was a lot like a child at Christmas. Or a stallion straining at the bit, Janice thought, watching the animal in question in the paddock as the men ran it through its paces. Her husband was every bit as impatient as that animal.
Just that knowledge made her blood stir as it hadn't in more years than she cared to consider. She was alternately hot and cold, thinking of Peter's kisses and then considering where they would lead. She would be a puddle of frazzled nerves before the day ended.
She didn't have much time to fret. The children practically bounced off the walls in excitement at the thought of the dance tonight and the Fourth of July celebrations on the morrow. The kitchen exuded aromas of baking pies and cakes and frying chicken. The barn was being cleaned, tables set up, and the house generally spruced up for the crowd of party-goers. Every corner of the yard and mansion was a beehive of activity. Janice was firmly drawn into the hectic bustle no matter where she turned.
Not until the heat of midafteraoon settled in and things slowed down did Janice even consider what she would wear for the dance. S
he went in search of Evie to consult on the proper attire.
Evie waved a fashion magazine like a fan to cool herself off in the family parlor. At Janice's question, she laughed. "Wear the coolest thing you can find. I wouldn't advise silk, though. Some of the boys get a little rowdy and you're likely to land up in a haystack or drenched in punch. That's why we hold it in the barn. We were lucky the house was a shambles that first year we tried to hold it inside. Fortunately, they only set fire to draperies that needed burning anyway. We just keep the horse troughs full now. If you have a light cotton gown, that will do just fine."
Janice had cotton gowns, but they were all of the schoolmarm variety. Drab grays and browns didn't seem exactly appropriate for a dance. Maybe she could take a little white lace off one of her church gowns.
As if reading her guest's mind, Evie exclaimed, "I know!" She looked Janice up and down carefully. "You're about the same size I was a few kids ago. I never throw anything away. The styles have changed some. How good are you with thread and needle?"
"Pretty fair," Janice said cautiously. Evie's flair for fashion was well known. She found it hard to believe her hostess would have something so mundane as a cotton gown, even one several years out of fashion.
"Excellent! Between us, we can concoct a gown that will bring that husband of yours to his knees. It's about time the two of you learned to enjoy yourselves." With that pronouncement, Evie sailed toward the stairs and her attic wardrobes.
Janice stood in awe as door after door was thrown open to reveal gowns of silks and satins, wool and foulard, eyelet and lace. Evie moved knowledgeably from one gown to the next, rejecting one after another until she found the one she wanted. In triumph, she jerked out a midnight-blue and ivory-striped cotton faille and held it out for inspection.
"A bustle will take up a lot of this old-fashioned train, and we can strip off the bottom flounce to shorten it even more. You don't want to be dragging all this material through straw. I think you're a little taller than I am, so that should bring the hem just about where it belongs for this year's style. If not, we can always pin it up a little beneath the polonaise. The color is perfect for you. I love redoing old gowns, don't you? It makes me feel so creative."
Texas Moon TH4 Page 17