Probably would've thought that Ted was crazy to marry her in the first place and crazier still to agree to divorce her and then try to marry her all over again. But Ted knew his brother would've supported him no matter how things with Cassie had turned out.
"Ted?" A timid voice came through the door. "Is that you in there?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin. Cassie. Exactly the person he wanted to see, at exactly the moment he wanted to see her.
He swung open the door and she jumped. "Hi, Cassie. What are you doing home so early?"
"Lord, you scared me. I heard you walking around but I didn't know it was you," she tried to explain. Her heart was pounding from running up the stairs and from the way he'd startled her. "Was this—?" She held back her question.
"This was our room before John died," he said, amazed that he could speak so calmly of his brother's death. "I had Momma move out my stuff the day of the accident and I've never been back. The room had been locked ever since."
"Oh," she said. "Can I come inside?"
"Sure." Ted stepped aside and let her enter. "You can help me take care of something I should have done years ago."
"You were talking about this in the hospital—in a roundabout way."
Ted nodded.
"Well, now I'm going to deal with it directly. I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
"Is it ever dusty in here," Cassie said. "I'm surprised Maria hasn't had someone clean up . . . would you like me to do it?"
"Momma never let anyone in here because she thought it would upset me," Ted said. "We all agreed to lock the door and keep it locked. But it's time to open it up. Life has to go on."
Cassie nodded. She didn't know what to say, but she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Cassie . . . you run downstairs and get a dust rag and I'll start sorting through these pictures."
"Okay. I'll change into some jeans and a work shirt and we'll put this room to rights in a hurry."
In a few minutes she was back with a spray can of lemon furniture polish and a handful of clean, white dustrags. "When we finish dusting, I'll vacuum. Open the blinds, Ted. Let's get some light in here."
She put on a pair of jeans so worn they were nearly white, and a T-shirt that had once been pink, but now sported a hole in one sleeve and a paint stain on the other. Her red curls were tied away from her face with a blue bandanna, and she was barefoot. Ted thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
"Brock brought me home early because we were caught up for the first time in weeks. He was on his way to the hospital for rounds," she explained as she dusted. "I thought about reading away the afternoon, but then I heard noises up here and came up to investigate. I'm glad it was only you."
"Only me?" he said in mock indignation. "Is that all you think of me?"
She swiped at his nose playfully with the dustrag, and Ted sneezed.
"Bless you!"
"Danks," he said thickly. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here to help me—with all this." He waited for his momentary sniffles to subside, and watched Cassie stretch over the back of the chest to dust. The snug jeans cupped her bottom in a most appealing way, and the vigorous way she cleaned house was energizing him, to say the least.
"That's better," she said when he opened the blinds. "Now I'll start on the nightstands and headboards and you can start sorting the pictures. Good grief, which one is you?" She pointed toward a newspaper clipping, yellowed with age and curling around the edges, tacked to the bulletin board. "I can't tell the difference."
"I'm the one in the blue shirt," Ted laughed. "Momma bought red for John and blue for me all the time. That's how she told us apart."
"But this is a newspaper photo. You're both in black and white." Cassie laughed, too.
"I'm on the one left . . . poetic, huh? I meant to say that I was the left one." He grew serious.
"Yes, you are," Cassie nodded. "And I was the one left when my granny died. But we're alive and we're not alone any more. They wouldn't want us to grieve for them one more day. God knows we've both cried enough."
Ted took her in his arms and held her close for a long moment.
"Thank you, Cassie." His voice was rough with emotion as they clung to each other in the quiet room.
The dust she'd stirred so vigorously danced in the sun that streamed through the windows at last.
"All right," Ted said, kissing her on the forehead. "This feels too good."
"What's wrong with that?" Cassie asked softly, her eyes shining.
"We've got work to do, woman. Don't distract me."
He turned to pick up three pictures and he handed them to her. "These go on the living room mantel. But I'm not able to get up and down the stairs that well."
"I don't mind. Let me do it."
Cassie looked at the top photo. It was a baby picture of the two boys when they were about six months old, both sitting up, both smiling at the camera. Ted wore blue overalls, John wore red.
"You sure were cute little fellows," she said. "Hey! I can tell the difference now. This one is you and this one is John."
Ted looked over her shoulder. "Not even Daddy could tell us apart when we were that young."
"Well, I can," she argued. "This baby one is you. Your eyes are different than John's and your smile is just a little more crooked. Your eyes are softer, Ted."
"I'll be damned," he said, turning the picture over to check the names his mother had jotted on the back. "You're right, Cassie."
"It's easy," she said flippantly, and she dashed down the stairs to put the pictures on the mantel.
"These two hang in the empty spaces in the hallway." Ted handed her two more framed photographs when she returned.
"You tried to fool your mother, didn't you?" Cassie smiled as she studied the pictures. "You and John traded shirts, huh?"
Ted had a choice: faint or fall down. Cassie was amazing. No one had ever known that he and John had traded shirts for their school pictures and neither of them had ever confessed. Every time he and his brother looked at this framed picture they'd been tickled, but no one else had ever gotten the joke. And this family outsider had taken one look and figured it out.
"How'd you know?" Ted asked.
"By your eyes, Ted. I'd know your eyes anywhere."
He stopped picking out pictures and sat down to rest. She picked up her dustrag again and started in on the double dresser.
"So, did you and John always share this room?"
"Yes. Since we were two." He took a very deep breath, and Cassie didn't say anything. She knew he had to come to terms with his past in his own way—and at his own pace. All she could do was help him if he asked.
"Let's keep at it, Cassie," he said quietly. "I promised myself that I would do this and I mean to finish."
She nodded, swiping her dustrag over the top of the dresser until the wood gleamed.
"All dusted," Cassie said with a flip of the rag. "Now I'll chase the vacuum around the room and under the beds. You get some more pictures ready and I'll put them where they belong."
"Yes, ma'am." Ted dug into the box and came up with another two photos. "These go on the end table beside the recliner where Daddy sits."
"All right." She took them and left the room. Seconds later she returned with the vacuum, a noisy beast that Ted had always disliked. And Cassie looked like she meant business. But he didn't think there could be anything prettier than Cassie in a cleaning fit.
"Better stand out in the hall while I do this," she warned him.
"Why?"
"Because if you don't I'll have to ask you to raise your feet and if I vacuum under your feet you'll never get married," Cassie said, without smiling.
"What?"
"Oh, come on." Cassie plugged the machine in the outlet. "You've heard that old superstition. It's not that far from Texas to Oklahoma. Granny always made me go in the other room while she vacuumed."
Ted laughed loudly, but he went to the doorway, where he watched her
vacuum up seven years of dust. Never get married? Funny. He was married.
"All done." She wheeled the vacuum back to the hall closet where Maria stored it. "We haven't really made a dent in getting those pictures back. I can carry more than one or two at a time, you know," she said.
"All of these go on top of the piano. But which goes where, Cassie?" he baited her.
Cassie loved this kind of puzzle. She took the pictures and set them out on the bed, trying to figure out how Maria would've arranged them. How had she arranged the ones on the mantel? She put the biggest one in the middle first.
It was a picture of all four kids. Liz was a teenager with a mouthful of braces, Ted and John looked to be about thirteen, and Alicia still had braids. She set a picture of Ted in his blue shirt on the right and an identical one of John in red on the left. Then she picked up the one of Alicia and the two brothers and put it on the other side of Ted, and one of Liz and the two brothers and put it on the other side of John.
"How am I doing?"
"Either you're psychic or you know Momma real well," he said. "Reverse those two on the outside and that's exactly right."
"Damnation, I didn't get it right!" Cassie stamped her foot.
"You were close enough." Ted laughed and swatted at her with a pillow. "You know us better than we know ourselves, Cassie."
She grabbed the pillow and slung it back at him. "It's not hard, Ted. You Wellmans are all so open and kind and easy to—" She stopped herself. She'd almost said love. A dangerous word to use, especially here, alone with him and not a soul in the house, and that sexy grin he kept grinning . . . no. She was not going to use that word.
He tried to tease it out of her.
"We're so easy to—what? You didn't finish your sentence, Cassie."
"To—to—clean up after. Now, we've got another whole box of pictures to set out and two beds to change and bedspreads to wash before Maria and Maggie get home," she finished.
"You're a slave driver," he complained. But he could guess what she'd almost said. And knowing that she felt that way made him almost ready to talk about it. About loving her, first and foremost, once and for all.
If Ted could only get her to listen without her being scared to death by the idea that someone might really love her. But the feeling had been growing in him every day since his accident—and he couldn't hold it back forever.
Cassie jumped up and headed out to the hall. "I'm going to get fresh bedding. You can take this dusty old stuff off."
Ted peeled back a bedspread and tossed it on the floor. The cloud of dust that rose made him sneeze all over again, as did Cassie, all the way down the hall and rummaging through the linen closet.
He was hiding behind the door when she returned with two clean bedspreads, and sheets. "Boo!" he said, startling her. Cassie jumped a foot. Then he slapped her rump with a pillow.
"You . . . you . . ." she stammered, her heart beating frantically.
Ted bowed.
"You are challenged, fair maiden, to a duel of pillows. The last hit wins and the winner takes the loser to dinner Friday night."
"Get ready to lose." Cassie grabbed a pillow and whomped him with all her might.
"Oh, no, I will not lose," he declared. "Not to a heartless hussy like you. I will win and you will pay for dinner at the most expensive place I can think of." Ted picked up his pillow and swung low, catching her just below the knees. She tumbled onto the bed but came up with fire in her eyes.
"Think again!" she shouted. She held onto the pillow by the corners and caught him with a solid hit on his good shoulder. He fell onto John's bed but bounded back for more.
She swung at his stomach but missed, the momentum tossing her onto the bed again like a feather in a wind storm. Ted took advantage of her momentary helplessness, and held her knees down with his thigh while he held the pillow above his head with his other hand.
"I win!" he declared.
With a giggle she squirmed out of his arms, took up her pillow, and swung with all her might over his head. He plopped down on the mattress with a thud, spitting out tiny feathers.
"Hah!" she said breathlessly. "That was the last hit."
"Okay, okay. You win. I'll take you to dinner on Friday and you can eat until I'm broke." Ted flipped over on his side and pulled her down beside him. The blue bandanna that had corralled her curls had long since fallen off, and her hair spilled over her shoulders.
"You sure look pretty today." Ted breathed in the intoxicating scent of her. It was a heady mixture of healthy excitement and lemon furniture polish and a trace of sweet perfume.
Cassie giggled.
"Well, thank you very much. I'm not used to getting compliments like that when I clean house."
"I want you to get used to a lifetime of it."
"What—cleaning house?" she said in mock horror.
"No, silly. Compliments."
Ted leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. His mouth touched hers and she closed her eyes, ready for a kiss.
Somewhere down deep a feeling of softness and peace took over his heart. He almost smiled in the middle of the kiss. How could he possibly feel peaceful with a woman like this, he wondered. Cassie, his sweet Cassie, was pure excitement . . . and pure passion, if he was reading her ardent response right.
When he pulled away from the kiss to look into her green eyes, she brought his face down to hers for another kiss that made both of them dizzy. His hand slipped beneath her T-shirt to find her breasts and caress them tenderly. She moaned very softly and shifted her weight, but didn't break the kiss, eager for more of his mouth on hers, and his touch.
A few minutes later her T-shirt was off and she wasn't sure how. Cassie threw it on the floor, then reached around her back and flipped the hooks until her bra was undone. She pitched it on the floor, too, and looked at Ted.
Cassie knew that she loved this man, loved the way he looked at her, loved the passionate yearning in his eyes. Cassie pulled him close, nestling against him a little shyly, but unafraid to return his caresses. Even though she was ready to take this step, she still couldn't control the slight trembling that betrayed her nervousness. She turned away from him suddenly.
"Cassie . . . ?" he questioned, reaching for her hand as she rose. "If you don't want to . . ."
Cassie shut the bedroom door and lay back down beside him on the bed.
"I love you," he murmured. His lips found hers and his hungry hands ran over her breasts and down her sides. "But I want you to want this . . . as much as I do. You can tell me to stop . . ."
"Kiss me again, Ted," she said. "I love you, too."
He drew her into a close embrace, as Cassie began to unbutton his shirt, running her hands over his muscular chest as he deepened the kiss.
Ted was trembling, too, with a barely restrained excitement that coursed through his body—and his soul. Cassie's first time would be his first time, too—and it seemed almost like a dream . . . a beautiful dream that could happen only with the woman he adored. Cassie. His true love . . . his one and only . . . his wife.
She arched against him, stroking his chest and back and returning his passionate kisses with an innocent hunger. Ted wanted only to make it wonderful for her, and he unzipped her jeans slowly, touching her as gently as he knew how, until she helped him slide both her jeans and her panties down over her hips and off.
Ted rose from the narrow bed and stood over for a moment, looking at Cassie in all her naked glory, and marveling at the luck that had brought him so lovely a woman—and the love that had kept them together and brought them to this moment.
He quickly shucked the rest of his clothes and stretched his full length along her slender body, sliding his strong hands over her, caressing her all over, until Cassie opened to him, ready and willing to love and be loved. He eased between her thighs, moving gently into her, until she dug her fingernails into his shoulder and drew in a sudden breath. Ted held still then and kissed her forehead, her closed eyes, her lips. He stroked
her hair, easing the slight soothing her until the slight pain of her first time eased, and Cassie dreamily opened her eyes.
"Cassie . . . my angel . . . my love . . ."
"Don't stop, Ted," she whispered. "Don't you ever stop loving me this way . . . promise . . ."
He nodded, kissing her lips to seal his promise, and she drew him down to her again.
Ted moved into her with a sensual, tender rhythm, his body hard against her, and she responded eagerly. The fiery sweetness of first love enfolded them both, and the tenderest pleasure she had ever known swept her body. Ted held her and rocked with her, until his own rough cry of release.
"Cassie . . . oh, Cassie . . ."
It was her turn to hold him then, and cradle his head against hers, while she cried just a little, from joy.
He pulled the clean bedspread over both of them and they curled up together, blissfully content in each other's arms, and slept.
They were awakened by the sound of a car door slamming once, then twice.
"That's Momma and Maggie," Ted whispered sleepily. "We better . . ." He yawned.
"We better get up!" Cassie bolted upright. Ted grinned lazily at her.
"Do we have to? This is legal, you know."
She struggled quickly into her work clothes, and tossed his jeans and shirt at him. "Get dressed, lazy!"
He complied, pulling on his clothes carefully. Cassie had made him forget all about his still weak arm and leg, but he was remembering them now. Ouch. Ow. Oof.
The front door had opened and closed, and the conversation of the two women who'd come in had stopped. They seemed to be listening. Cassie heard their footsteps on the stairs and Maria calling their names.
"We're up here . . . cleaning," Cassie called back. She blushed. "Lord, we almost got caught," she whispered, glad they'd managed to get their clothing back on and the bed straightened before his mother and aunt made it all the way to the top of the stairs.
Ted grinned wickedly.
"Better do something about your hair." Cassie looked quickly into the mirror. Ted was right. Her red curls were a love-tousled mess. She tied them back fast with the cleanest of the dustrags, and opened the door to Maria and Maggie.
Small Town Romance Collection: Four Complete Romances & A New Novella Page 50