by Jodi Thomas
“How long have you known about this?”
A tear drifted down her cheek. “I’ve heard plotting since he came back from the war, but I saw no part of it as involving me. I thought it was just a dream he had. Something he liked to talk about with his old friends. Only a few months ago when he brought August Myers home, I knew that I too was supposed to play a part. I’d met August a few times. My father asked me what I thought of him and I said that I thought he was good-looking. That seemed to be enough.”
She moved closer to Killian. “Until you came to me on the balcony, I didn’t think I had a choice.”
He held her gently. “What made you change your mind?”
“You kissed me, Killian, and I knew I could never marry August. When August kisses me, I feel nothing but cold, as if I’m touching my lips to a windowpane just before it freezes over.” She smiled as though she were telling a secret. “When you kissed me, I felt a warmth all the way to my toes.”
He held her against his heart, trying to understand how such a woman would turn to him. How could he ever explain to her that he wasn’t saving her, she was saving him?
Finally, he whispered in her ear that she didn’t have to go back, but he wasn’t sure she believed him.
When he pulled away, he asked, “What can I bring you? What do you need?”
She smiled up at him. “Besides you?”
“Besides me.” He kissed her on the nose.
“A nightgown. A book to read. Shawn to watch over me.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be back as soon as I can slip away.”
“And,” she added, “if you get the chance, tell Rose I’m all right.”
“I’ll do that.”
Killian almost ran from the little rooms above the bakery. If he’d stayed a moment longer he would have told her all that was in his heart. He probably would have sworn he loved her and wanted to bed her. He would have frightened her to death.
She’d asked for his help and that was all he’d offer until he knew she was safe. Only then would he tell her just how much she could mean to him.
A few minutes later when he passed Rose McMurray’s room, he tapped on her door unsure how or what he’d tell her.
The maid answered the door, looking like she was bothered by the knock.
“May I speak to Miss Rose?”
The maid frowned. “She’s indisposed at the moment. Perhaps you should try again later.”
“Fine,” Killian managed, and moved away with the strong feeling that the maid had just lied to him.
Chapter 22
Second Avenue
Abe spent a quiet afternoon working on the books. Though the rain had stopped, the sky was still cloudy. Everyone on the avenue seemed to be moving in slow motion. Miss Norman even let the children out a little early.
About once an hour Abe would walk to the front of the store and look out to see Miss Norman working alone at her desk. Part of him wanted to stand at the door of his place and stare until she looked up and saw him, but he knew he couldn’t. Someone would notice.
It crossed his mind that she’d simply come to him to have her “taste of life and adventure.” He could be that if it was all she wanted. He’d make her blush. He’d make the decisions. Her taste of life might be a lark for her, but to him it would be his one favorite memory until the day he died.
He knew he’d never tell her so. Emotions and feelings weren’t allowed when he was growing up, and when he lay almost dying after the battle, they seemed only a weakness he couldn’t allow himself.
When the evening finally came, he let Henry go home and locked up early. He’d thought he would walk the schoolteacher to her door again tonight; but when he looked at the window she always sat by, the schoolhouse was empty and dark. He’d missed her passing the store. He’d missed his one chance to see her. To speak to her.
As he blew out the lights, he thought of walking over to the boardinghouse and asking to talk to her. But with the mud, he wasn’t sure he could make it without falling. If he did make it to her door, she might not be allowed guests even in the parlor.
He could almost hear his mother’s words snapping in his mind. You don’t need her, Abe, you don’t need anyone.
Abe moved to the back, an ache for her deep inside him. He’d thought walking her home had been the beginning of something, but he must have been wrong.
He was almost to the back counter when he looked up and saw the light on in his study. A thin beam of light shone high behind the wall of shelves. She’d returned. It didn’t matter why. He’d be her taste of life if that was all she wanted and he’d count himself lucky.
When he opened the door, she was standing next to the mirror combing out her hair for him. She’d hung her coat on the door as he’d told her and she was using the brush he’d left her. For a while he just watched her, thinking of how lovely she looked. People build expensive buildings to house art, but nothing he’d ever seen could compare to Miss Norman combing her hair in the little room at the back of his store.
“I told you not to come,” he said simply as he moved up behind her while he studied her face in the mirror. For a moment she looked worried, but then she saw his smile and smiled back.
“I know,” she whispered. “You said it wasn’t safe, but I was very careful. Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes,” he whispered as he moved against her back. “But not nearly as much as I want you to stay.” He dug his hand into her hair and pulled her mouth to his, needing the taste of her more than air. As he kissed her, his hand brushed over her body. The proper Miss Norman was his, if only for a few minutes.
Abe held her tightly, not letting her turn to face him as he kissed her neck. “I’m starving for you. Do you mind?” His arm moved around her middle. “I like the feel of you against me.”
“No, I don’t mind,” she answered, then let out a little sound of surprise as he gently tasted the side of her neck. His arm tightened just below her breasts and he felt her tremble.
He pulled away. “I don’t want to leave a mark anyone would see. Unbutton your blouse, Sara.”
He could feel her trembling. With shaking hands she opened her collar exposing her throat and the rise of her breasts above her undergarments. She’d done exactly what he’d told her to do.
For a moment he just watched her breathing, then he moved his fingers lightly down the curve of her neck. He touched the soft, pale skin just above her camisole. “I’ll kiss you right here tonight.” She drew in a quick breath and the cotton slipped just a fraction of an inch. Moving his fingers to the rise of her other breast, he added, “And maybe here as well.”
She stood still, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow.
“Do you want this, Sara? Do you want my touch?” She’d come to him, but he had to make sure.
“Yes,” she whispered. “More than anything.”
He smiled and moved close once more. This time he didn’t hesitate as he moved his hand over the cotton camisole. He heard her cry out softly, but he didn’t stop. He felt of her breasts and the valley between them with only one layer of fabric between him and her.
Finally, he pulled away and saw tears sparkling in her eyes as he took her hand. They moved the few steps to the chair and he sat down as he had before, pulling her on top of him. Now the kisses turned tender with longing and his touch featherlight.
From this point on in his life, if anyone should ask him if he believed in miracles, he’d answer yes, for surely Miss Norman wanting him as dearly as he needed her was nothing short of miraculous.
He loved her as she was tonight, covering him with her body, relaxed as he moved his fingers over her. After a while she cuddled against his shoulder as if she’d done so a thousand times.
“I’m not sorry you came,” he whispered, “but I don’t want to talk. We can talk of whatever you want when we walk, but here, in this room, I only want to hold you.”
He tugged her mouth open with his thumb and kissed her fully. When he
finally let her breathe, he added, “You’re mine, Sara. In this place there is no other world, no other people. Just me and you.”
“Yes, dear,” she answered as she stretched and kissed his cheek.
“Do that again,” he ordered, loving the way she pressed her body against him while giving him an innocent kiss.
This time when she brushed his cheek, he turned and offered her his mouth. While she kissed him, he lifted her arm and set it on his shoulder. When she finished, she settled back against his chest.
“That was nice.” He moved his hand in long strokes along her arm. For a while, he just held her, thinking what a treasure she was. He’d decided a few years back that his life would never change; he’d live the same days over and over until he died. Then a ghost gave him some advice and his world shifted. There would be no going back. Even if she never slipped into his study again, the memory of her would always be with him.
“Again,” he ordered.
She straightened and kissed his cheek. A moment later, he dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her close as he whispered against her ear. “You’ll do that every time I ask, won’t you?”
His words were harsher than he’d intended, but she answered sweetly, “Yes, dear.”
When she was completely relaxed in his arms, he leaned over her and kissed her long and deep, loving the way she’d learned to silently answer his kiss.
“I don’t want this time to end,” he finally said. “I love holding you like this, touching you, tasting the softness of flesh no one sees.”
When he saw the blush in her face, he realized his words had embarrassed her. “I’ll not speak of it again, dear.”
She nodded and smiled up at him.
“But know,” he added, “that I’ll think of you like you are tonight always.”
When he heard the clock tower chime, he knew their time was up. She pulled away and buttoned her blouse as he watched. She was only two feet from him, yet he could already feel the longing for her growing.
He stood, making himself move as far away from her as the room allowed. “I’ll get my coat and hat. Once you’re dressed we’ll leave out the back. No one will see us. We can walk across to the side entrance to the little café at the Grand. I understand they serve a meal there until ten. We’re having dinner tonight together.”
“Oh no. It’s too expensive.”
He frowned at her. “We’re having dinner there tonight, Miss Norman. Tonight and every Wednesday night from now on.” He wanted to add “for the rest of our lives,” but he didn’t feel like she was ready to hear that yet.
“Yes, dear.” She turned to pin up her hair.
He moved out into the storage room and smiled. He was stepping out with Miss Norman. Now it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew they were courting. The hotel’s café wasn’t fancy, but he’d been there once and knew the food would be good. He’d take her to better places some nights. He could afford them.
Abe frowned. He probably should have asked and not ordered her to dinner. He really didn’t know how to court.
“I’m ready,” she said as she stepped from the study, looking like a very proper Miss Norman.
He stared at her. “You take my breath away, woman.”
She smiled that tight little smile she allowed herself and he saw her blush with pleasure.
Abe picked up the cane he rarely used and they moved silently out of the store. He took her arm for support as they crossed the alley and walked around to the side door. The place was empty except for one waiter and a man reading by the windows.
Abe ordered for them, one plate of each of the two specials. Milk for her and coffee for him. When the waiter delivered the food, he let her choose which plate she wanted. They ate in silence. When the waiter served dessert, Abe said, “Was your food satisfactory, dear?”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands.
“You’ll tell the boardinghouse you’ll be having dinner with me on Wednesdays from now on?” It might sound like an order, but they both knew it was a question.
“I will if you like.”
“I can think of nothing I’d like more.” He lowered his voice and added, “Well, one thing maybe. The hour before we eat dinner was pleasant.”
She didn’t look up at him. He knew he’d crossed the line between what happened in the study and the real world. They didn’t say another word as they finished. One more thing he didn’t know how to do, he thought, he didn’t know how to talk to a woman.
The rain had started by the time they walked to the front door. Abe ordered the hotel carriage to drive her home. While they waited, they watched the rain from just inside the front door. They laughed at the little streetcar rattling by with one mule pulling it along the line. Now and then the mule would pull the streetcar off the track and all the passengers would have to jump out and lift it back on.
“Looks like the passengers are doing more work than the mule tonight,” Abe whispered.
She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh out loud.
He felt the magic of being in public with someone and still being very much in their own world.
Once they were inside the dark silence of the carriage, he took her hand. He thought of saying he was sorry, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t want to hear it. He thought of telling her how he already ached to hold her again, but she might consider that too bold.
Finally, he decided not to even attempt to make small talk. The boardinghouse was only a few streets away. He didn’t have time to pour out his heart, even if he knew how.
So he just held her hand, savoring the feel of her fingers between his. When the driver stopped, Abe climbed out and helped her down. Then he paid the driver and walked her to the bottom of the steps of her home. “Thank you for tonight,” he managed, well aware that someone might be watching from the windows.
“Thank you for dinner,” she answered.
“Good night, Miss Norman.”
“Good night, Mr. Henderson.”
He steadied himself on his cane and walked slowly away. With the mud and the rain, the street was dangerous for him. With great care he made it across to where the boardwalk started. Each small business was responsible for maintaining the section in front of their store. Some did a better job than others. As he stepped onto the walk in front of the post office he noticed someone had added a railing, making his steps more sure.
When he reached home, Abe sat in the study for a long while reliving every minute of the night. Finally, he closed his eyes, thinking he could still smell the hint of her perfume. He promised himself that if his Miss Norman would just give him time, he’d learn to be kind, to talk softly to her, to love her.
Footsteps from somewhere above the storage room drew him from his dreaming. For a second Abe tensed, then he realized it was only Killian’s lady moving around in the apartment. He thought of calling up the stairs to see if Killian were there. Abe wanted to tell him that he’d eaten out with Miss Norman, but Abe figured O’Toole had his hands full of trouble right now.
Abe relaxed into his chair thinking about how he’d held her hand in the carriage ride home. In a strange way it had been as intimate as what they’d done in the study. He liked holding her hand. It gave his life a balance that had nothing to do with his weak leg.
Chapter 23
Main Street
When Killian O’Toole tried for the fourth time to see Rose, he was told she’d meet him in the café downstairs.
Killian frowned and walked back down to the little café off the lobby that served coffee, hot rolls, and a simple workman’s plate for people who didn’t want to go into the fancy dining room.
He’d been playing a game all day, acting like he was August’s friend, acting like he was worried about Victoria Chamberlain, acting like he was helping in the search. So far they’d found nothing and August hadn’t mentioned leaving Fort Worth, so Killian guessed he’d have to spend another day acting like he didn’t know Victoria was only minutes away
, probably talking to his dead brother.
He sat down in the shop and a tired waiter asked what he’d like without leaving his spot at the bar.
“Nothing,” Killian said. “How about I just sit here and leave a two-bit tip for you not serving me?”
“Sounds good to me. I could completely ignore you for four bits. For two bits I’ll hover by now and then to make sure you still don’t want anything.”
“Four bits it is,” Killian agreed.
While he waited, he glanced out the window and thought he saw his friend Abe Henderson climbing into a carriage. Of course, it couldn’t be. Abe wouldn’t hire a carriage to go around the corner, not even in the rain.
A middle-aged man in a tweed suit sat by the windows reading a book by candlelight. He must have paid his four bits too, for the waiter never bothered him either.
Rose wore a navy blue cape as she walked into the café even though Killian guessed she had no plans for leaving the building. Her hair was down for a change and streamed along her back like an ebony waterfall, beautiful and shining. The sight of her brought Killian back from his thoughts. Though Rose and Victoria were near the same height, Victoria was spring sunshine and Rose midnight calm.
He stood and held her chair. As she took her seat, her cape flared open for a moment and he saw a gun belt strapped low around her waist.
Killian had seen women wearing guns before and guessed if this lady felt the need to have one she had a good reason. He couldn’t help but wonder if Victoria’s disappearance hadn’t somehow put Rose in danger, but he couldn’t see how.
“Thank you for seeing me,” he said as he sat across from her. They hadn’t known one another long enough to be classified as friends, so he had no doubt she was seeing him simply because he’d been such a pest.
“I’ve only a few minutes, Mr. O’Toole. I presume you know there is to be no wedding, so I’ll be leaving as soon as possible.”