Maybe it was only desperation driving her. Maybe her fear over her father’s dire financial situation was tempting her to accept Richard’s offer. Or maybe it was a more pathetic reason. Maybe it was simply because she was dying inside and was hungry for any scrap of human affection tossed her way.
Chapter Six
Kyle gripped Tom Drake’s business register in his hands, unable to believe he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Tom Drake was broke.
Everything of value at the mill had been mortgaged to the bank: the buildings, the timber, even the horses. Not only was Kyle out the money Tom had owed him for the timber he’d bought, but Kyle had just used every cent in his and his brothers’ joint business account to purchase a mill teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. He may as well have thrown their money into quicksand.
A sickening rush of heat filled Kyle’s chest and the first stirring of fear snaked through his gut. None of them could take on this avalanche of debt. It would bury the depot and jeopardize the livelihood of each one of them.
Panic pushed its way up his throat and one thought kept circling Kyle’s mind. Did Amelia know about her father’s debt? And if she did, why hadn’t she told Kyle?
He stared down at the slanted writing in Tom’s journal knowing that the need to ease his guilt and fulfill his promise to Tom had driven him to act in haste. He shouldn’t have let his sympathy for Amelia overshadow his instincts. He shouldn’t have put so much faith in Tom and believed him incapable of getting himself into a financial crisis. He should have researched his investment before giving Victoria a bank draft. Dammit all, he should have looked beyond Amelia’s melancholy eyes and found out more about her father’s business.
Boyd paced the floor and eyed Kyle with disgust. “You said this would be a good investment, but this lumberyard is a disaster!”
Judging by Radford’s and Duke’s matching expressions, they had discovered the same horrid mess in the folders they’d been leafing through. Radford pushed the drawer closed with his elbow. “What could have caused Tom to get himself into this kind of trouble?” he asked, his voice filled with concern rather than the condemnation reflected in Boyd’s comments.
Kyle had no idea. In a million years, Kyle wouldn’t have believed Tom would ever be desperate enough to mortgage his mill. That’s what Kyle got for trusting someone. He should have learned his lesson when his own damned brother betrayed him.
“You should have known what type of investment you were making, Kyle. You’ve drilled that lesson into my head every day for the last five years. All you’ve been harping about lately is that a tavern is a bad investment.” Boyd stopped in front of the desk and shoved his dark hair off his forehead, his gaze boring into Kyle’s. “At least an alehouse has the potential for making a profit. This pathetic deal you made is going to ruin us.”
Boyd spoke the truth, but all Kyle could think about was how he would tell Amelia about her father’s debt. Or how he would manage to control his anger if she’d known about it and let him walk into a deal with the potential to destroy him.
Unable to look at his brothers, Kyle fixed his gaze outside the window. If Amelia had given Kyle the mill free of charge, he still doubted his ability to turn it around.
“How deep are we in?” Duke asked, leaning against the knotty-pine wall slats, casually folding his arms over his chest as though unconcerned over the potential downfall of their business.
Kyle stood up, needing to be at eye level with his brothers when he told them he’d just tied their mill to a sinking stone in an ocean of debt. “I invested everything in our account.”
Boyd’s expression flattened and he stared at Kyle. “What do you mean everything?” His jaw muscles flexed. “Be specific.”
“I used all of our money, Boyd. Every cent.”
“You’d better mean less my twenty-five percent because I told you I want out.”
Getting pressured by Boyd while he was trying to think his way through the catastrophe snapped Kyle’s patience. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’re in this with the rest of us.”
Boyd flung his arm out to encompass Duke and Radford. “The four of us own the mill. Who gave you the right to make decisions for us?”
White-hot anger surged through Kyle and his fists clenched around Tom’s register. “You gave me permission! Each time you left the burden of making a decision on my shoulders. A burden I didn’t want that I’ve carried alone for five goddamned years. Every time we had a problem, you and Duke left me to handle it. As for Radford,” Kyle said, glancing at his older brother, “he was too busy with his own burdens to worry about ours.”
“I worried,” Radford said, though his voice held no malice.
Kyle tossed the register on the desk, regretting his outburst. For years Radford had been tormented by his nightmares of the war. His inability to control his violent outbursts not only shamed him but nearly destroyed their family. Radford had been to hell and back trying to work through his trauma, and Kyle was glad to see his brother learning to escape his memories and be happy again. “That wasn’t meant as an insult, Radford.”
“You two have already covered this ground,” Boyd said, forcing their attention back to the problem at hand. “Give me my cut of the mill and you’re free to do whatever you want with this calamity.”
“I’m not mortgaging our mill to finance a stench-filled tavern so you can drink yourself into oblivion each night.”
“Well, I’m not going to be imprisoned by your ambition, Kyle!”
“Then act like a man and use your head for once. You have as much responsibility to our mill as the rest of us. It’s time you realize that and stop drowning your brain in ale every night. You’re turning into a damned drunk.”
Boyd dove forward, his fist arcing toward Kyle’s face, but Duke and Radford snagged his arms and hauled him back.
He tried to yank his arms free, but they kept him reined. “Kyle had no right to do this. He knew I wanted out. The bastard tied up our money on purpose.”
Guilt wiggled its way through Kyle’s mind. Boyd spoke the truth, but Kyle refused to let his brother drink away the tiny inheritance he’d patiently nursed into a respectable amount of money.
“I made an investment I thought to be sound,” Kyle said, hoping he could batter his point through Boyd’s anger. “If you’ll settle down and give me some time to think, I might find a way to make this work.”
“Why waste the time? Just tell Amelia the deal’s off.”
Kyle looked at Radford and Duke and knew they agreed with Boyd. It would be the easiest way to solve their problem. And if she’d duped him, turnabout was fair play. Still, the thought of dumping the burden back in Amelia’s lap only fed Kyle’s guilt. Whether she’d intentionally misled him about the debt or not, he’d promised to take care of her and Victoria. Since they would never accept his charity, buying Tom’s lumberyard was the only way to fulfill his commitment to Tom. Still, he had his brothers’ welfare to think about.
Boyd jerked against his brothers’ hands. “Let go.”
“All right, but quit acting like an ass.”
“An ass?” Boyd pulled free and glared at Duke. “Am I an ass because I want to make my own choices and live my own life instead of walking in the shadows of you three? I’m tired of being known as the sheriff’s brother, or the brother of the most respected businessman in town, or worse yet, the brother of a goddamn war hero,” he said, flinging his hand out toward Radford, whose expression registered surprise then insult. “If all I can amount to is a drunk, then I’m going to own the tavern and be the best drunk in town.”
Duke lifted a brow. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thrashed you. If you embarrass Mom with your carousing and drinking, I’ll make it a priority to do so.”
A fire flared in Boyd’s eyes as he sized up Duke’s thick arms, then he tossed his head back with a laugh, acting like his usual mischievous self. “That would be one hell of a row, now wouldn’t it?”
“It’d be a dumb move on your part, but go ahead if you like.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Kyle slammed his fist on the desk. “Use your fat heads for something more than punching bags, will you? We’ve got a problem to solve.”
“We?” Boyd turned to Kyle, the cocky smirk still on his face. “You made the problem. You solve it.” He pulled open the door then turned back. “One month, Kyle. I want my money in four weeks. Not a day more.”
Kyle clenched his teeth as the door slammed behind Boyd. “What do you two want to do?” he asked, knowing he would respect their decision regardless of its effect on Amelia or his own conscience.
Radford shrugged. “Common sense tells me to side with Boyd.”
Duke pushed away from the wall. “I agree, but you’ve always done a good job of managing our business. I’ll trust your judgment, Kyle.”
Kyle had no idea what he would do, but he knew one thing for certain. He was going to visit Amelia Drake and find out what the hell she knew about her father’s debt.
Chapter Seven
The knock at her private entrance startled Amelia. The board members always entered through the front door of the schoolhouse for their meetings, and Amelia left her connecting door open so she would hear them arrive. They had never breached her privacy by coming to her personal entrance.
Maybe it was Eva coming to warn Amelia that she was in for an hour of chastising because of the scene with Richard at the bank. Amelia sighed and opened the door, just wanting the meeting over with so she could figure out how to support her mother without succumbing to Richard’s proposition.
To her shock, Kyle Grayson planted his hands against the doorframe and angled his powerful body toward her. “We have to talk,” he said, in his straightforward manner.
Amelia blinked, unable to believe he was really standing in her doorway when he knew perfectly well his presence at her apartment would be viewed as the ultimate sin. Concerned for both of them, she peered over his shoulder to see if Eva and Philmore Bentley were leaving their house yet. “You can’t be seen here, Kyle.”
“I know. I’m sorry for putting you at risk, but we have a problem to discuss. Did you know that your father’s mill is nearly bankrupt?”
She honestly hadn’t until a few hours ago. Believing Kyle had come to rescind his offer on the mill, Amelia opened her mouth to beg him not to do it, but the rattle of carriage wheels sounded in the street. Knowing Kyle could be seen from the road, and that she would end up losing the only income she had, Amelia grabbed his arm and tugged him inside. Despite his surprise, she shut the door behind him, then tried to calm her pounding heart.
He towered over her, standing so close that she could see the dark flecks in his eyes. She could smell fresh-cut wood and evening air emanating from his clothing along with a hint of aftershave. His jaw was speckled with whiskers and his thick hair swept off his forehead as though he’d repeatedly shoved it back with his fingers. Even tired and work-worn, Kyle Grayson was disgustingly attractive. Amelia yanked her gaze from his face, appalled that she would notice something so trite during such a catastrophic crisis. To her further dismay, her gaze riveted on the hair peeking from his open collar. The queer thrill in her stomach stoked her frustration as much as his news had.
“My brothers are ready to kill me for making such a bad investment, Amelia.” His quiet statement spelled doom. He stared directly into her eyes. “If one of them had done this, I would kill them. I’m sorry, but in their interest, I have to cancel our agreement. The mill is debt-ridden. It could drag my own business into bankruptcy. I can’t ask my brothers to take that risk.”
“But I already used your draft to pay off the mortgage on Mama’s house.”
“Your father mortgaged the house, too? Ah, Christ.” Kyle pinched the bridge of his perfect, proud nose and shook his head. “There isn’t a hope in hell of saving the mill.” He sighed and looked away, his gaze perusing the stark little box she lived in before returning to her. “Jeb doesn’t know what’s going on, either. Do you think your father might have talked to your mother about his debt?”
Amelia shook her head and braced herself against the solid bulk of the table. Her father would have never worried her mother with his financial troubles. She wouldn’t, either. Her mother was suffering enough heartache and worry without knowing the precarious state of their security.
“Do you have any relatives who can help you?” Kyle asked, oblivious to the panic drowning her.
“No.”
“There isn’t anyone anywhere that you and your mother can depend on?”
“My mother has a widowed sister in Georgia, who’s as poor as a church mouse. She’s our only living relative that I’m aware of.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” She nodded and his gaze darted through the room as if searching for something to punch his fist through. “What the hell was your father thinking?”
“If you don’t know the circumstances, don’t blame Papa for this.”
Kyle stared in disbelief. “Who do you think is responsible for this mess?”
She shrugged. “There could be a million reasons for Papa’s financial problems. It may not be his fault at all.”
“It most certainly is his fault! His bad decisions drove his mill into debt, and it could damn well drag mine with it.” Kyle grabbed her wrist and tugged her away from the table. “If you need proof of that we can take a trip to his mill right now and I’ll show you the mess he has made.”
The absurdity of her situation washed over her and Amelia’s emotions spiraled out of control. It would be so easy to sink to the floor in a laughing, weeping ball of idiocy, but something stronger burned inside her and shoved aside self-pity. She’d had enough. She refused to be a victim any longer.
Every man in her life had manipulated her or let her down. From the moment of her birth, she’d lived her life under someone else’s rules. She’d adored her father and appreciated his support, but she’d lived by his standards, not her own. After her affair with Richard she traded her freedom for a minuscule monthly stipend and a pristine reputation as a teacher. Now, because of a mistake in her past, one man’s arrogance, and another man’s bad decisions, her reputation and security were on the verge of destruction.
Amelia jerked her arm, but Kyle kept her wrist captive. “Leave my apartment!” she demanded, refusing to be pushed or manhandled ever again. When Kyle still didn’t release her wrist, Amelia swung her foot straight into his shin.
Air whistled in between his clenched teeth and a sickly expression washed over his face as he swayed on his feet, but it was the low groan of pain and his hand clutching for the bedpost that made Amelia realize what she'd done.
“Your leg! Oh, my God. Kyle, I'm sorry.”
His entire body trembled and perspiration covered his face as she guided him onto her bed, but he didn’t say a word. He clenched his fists in his lap until his knuckles turned white. His chest heaved and he squeezed his eyes shut, but the suspicious sparkle of moisture on his dark lashes rent Amelia's heart.
“Kyle,” she said softly, touching his taut, damp cheek. “I'm so sorry. I forgot about your injury.” He didn't respond and Amelia wasn't sure if it was because he was so angry or because he was in too much pain to do so.
She grabbed a freshly laundered towel off her linen stand and soaked it in the bucket of water she’d just drawn from the well. When she turned toward the bed, Kyle was sitting with his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes tightly closed. “I'll need to lift your pants leg.”
He didn’t respond.
Amelia raised the lightweight denim as gently as possible. When she saw Kyle’s shin covered with black tissue and swollen to the point of deformity, she nearly wept with remorse for her rash behavior. How stupid she’d been. Swallowing back her nausea, she applied the cold, dripping cloth and apologized for the discomfort when he flinched. Her eyes blurred with tears and she cursed herself again for her inconsiderate act. It wasn’t
his fault her father was in debt, that her life was falling apart.
He let out a shaky breath. “Do you have another wet cloth?”
His voice came out graveled and slow, and it was apparent he was in no condition to lean over and hold the compress to his leg. She glanced around the room, but there was nothing to use to pin the cloth in place. Amelia plucked a pin from her hair and slipped it over the area where the two ends of the fabric crossed. With the reinforcement of four more hairpins the rag stayed in place. She crossed to her linen stand, unmindful of her hair trailing down her back.
She wet a fresh towel, wrung the excess into her potted plant, which was the only living thing allowed to share her tiny apartment with her, then returned to Kyle's side. After folding the towel, she pressed it to his forehead.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice strained.
Amelia didn't answer for lack of an appropriate response. No matter how many times she apologized, it would not lessen the pain she’d caused him or the guilt she was suffering for kicking him.
Minutes passed while Kyle sat stiff and silent. Unable to offer comfort, Amelia knelt before him and removed the cloth from his leg. She soaked it with cold water then pinned it back in place. When she stood to freshen the towel on his face, Kyle captured her wrist. Startled, she glanced down and found herself gazing into a pair of hurting, earth-colored eyes.
“I'm sorry I acted like a jackass,” he said quietly.
Amelia couldn't have been more shocked by his apology if he’d said he would pay off her debts and marry her to boot. “You're sorry? I kicked you, remember?”
“Vividly. But I prompted the action, and for that, I apologize.”
It disconcerted her to stand so close while he shrewdly assessed her from beneath those long, dark lashes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
The Longing Page 6