"Thomas, where are you?"
"Here," he said. She headed toward his voice. As it turned out, he had not crawled far in the darkness. Relief was immediate but so was her sense that something was wrong.
"My arm hurts."
Charlotte set the lantern down and crouched beside him. Thomas cradled his left arm in his lap. His dirty face showed the streaks of tears, but he looked so good to her, she could have sat down and cried herself. She gathered him against her, trying not to put any pressure on his arm.
"Does everything else feel all right? How's your head and your tummy?"
"I'm hungry," Thomas said, and Charlotte smiled. That was an excellent sign.
"We'll be eating soon and having cherry pie for dessert. But first we have to get out of here."
She felt him nod against her chest as she stooped to hook the lantern over her wrist and keep him secure at the same time.
"Charlotte," Reed's voice called anxiously from above.
"I've got him," she called back. "He's going to be fine."
* * *
It was late when they sat down together like a family, eating cherry pie as Charlotte had promised, all four of them at the kitchen table. Thomas scooped up forkfuls of pie with his right hand; his broken arm, which Doctor Cuthins had set, was in a sling.
"The color's returning to his cheeks," Charlotte remarked, glad that the boy was rapidly regaining his spirits after his ordeal. Sarah had practically needed smelling salts when Reed went to fetch her husband, so upset was she at having let the children walk home.
It had taken all Reed's convincing, he later told Charlotte, to reassure Sarah that it wasn't her fault—just bad luck and disobedient children.
"Wasn't it terribly scary?" Lily asked for the umpteenth time since she'd laid eyes on her brother. Her brown eyes moved from Thomas to Charlotte. "I couldn't stand being in a hole."
"Not a hole," Thomas scoffed. "It's a tunnel."
"He's right, but it's a dangerous one, at that." Reed was not through with the incident yet. He had been strangely quiet since the rescue. "I'm going to talk to your... sheriff?" he looked at Charlotte.
"Mayor," she said helpfully, standing up to start heating water for dishes. "Mayor Lang. You can find him most any day... sleeping at the City Hall, which is the back of the general store."
"Sleeping?" three voices spoke in unison.
Charlotte nodded. "Mayor Lang was old when I was Lily's age. Now he's ancient. But everyone loves him, and he's always getting reelected."
"I think I understand," Reed said, as he moved to pour himself a cup of coffee. "If you want something done, you do it yourself."
Charlotte just shrugged. "Otherwise, you'd have to send word to the governor, but that can take months. Besides you won't be here long enough to be able to do anything about it."
She wished she hadn't said that as it put a quick damper on the little flame of joviality they'd been trying for that night. The children became silent at her remark, but when Reed answered, his tone was matter-of-fact.
"It won't take all that long to do what I intend if I can get my hands on the right tools and enough lumber."
Not that long, she thought, that's all the time they had left. She sunk her hands into the hot soapy water and hissed.
"What is it?" Reed was beside her in an instant.
"I forgot about the splinter," she admitted, turning her hand over to show a long dark line under her skin where the wood had broken off. The skin around it was red and irritated.
"That looks painful," Reed commented. "You should have said something earlier when Doctor Cuthins was here."
Charlotte struggled not to feel hurt by the harshness of his tone. "In light of Thomas's arm, it hardly seemed—"
"It's okay to ask for help," he cut in, his voice rough with irritation. "It doesn't mean you'll lose your independence. Do you have a needle?"
Minutes later, he was poking at the deep splinter with a needle sterilized over a candle flame. The children looked on fascinated. Charlotte bit her bottom lip and held her breath as Reed worked efficiently but painfully. After everything else that had happened today, she would be damned if she'd cry now.
"Almost there," he said, looking up from his ministrations to see her pale face. He looked over her head and addressed the children. "Why don't you two head upstairs and get ready for bed. Lily, you can help your brother get his clothes off, can't you?"
When it was just the two of them, Reed gave her a smile. "Come on, lady writer," he added, his voice gentler now. "I've seen how full of grit you can be. Don't get all soft on me now."
When it was over, Charlotte accepted a glass of brandy, wondering if some mention should be made of what had passed between them so many hours earlier. The absolute quiet in the kitchen seemed tangible until Reed took over the dishes.
She took a small sip of the soothing liquid, certain he could hear her swallow. But what to say?
"Charlotte."
"Reed."
Spoken together, their names were blurred. Reed was unmoving, leaning against the counter with a dripping dish in one hand. Then he smiled a crooked smile that made her want to shed her clothes and her inhibitions.
"I think," he began, but she was not to learn what it was Reed thought as Lily called down the stairs for her. It seemed they turned to her more and more as time passed.
"I'd best see what she wants," Charlotte told him, a bit relieved by the interruption but chastising herself for cowardice at the same time.
He simply nodded. By the time the children were settled and sleeping, she could barely keep her own eyes open. Charlotte sat on her bed, thinking to rest just a moment, knowing that Reed was probably waiting downstairs or out on the porch. Instead, however, she fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.
Chapter 10
Reed took off in the wagon right after breakfast and was gone all day. In his absence, Charlotte finished her article and began weeding her new garden late in the afternoon. She began to fret over the incident in his bedroom the day before.
They had barely had a moment alone together since the wolves had howled, and the longer the time dragged on, the more self-conscious she felt over melting in his arms. Did he think her wanton now?
She was still absentmindedly thinking of him when he came into view, driving the wagon at a slow pace. Even from a distance, she could see that he was tired from his day's work, and as he came closer, she could also see that he was dirty from the top of his raven black hair downward. She dashed inside to start heating water.
Before she knew it, it was supper. The children were brimming over with excitement about the dance—so much so that Reed could barely get a word in edgewise to tell her about the crude carpentry he'd done. With the help of two men from town, Dan who ran the feedstore and Ely, the barber, they nailed new boards over every hole he could find.
Lily was already humming and tapping along with her toes. And Thomas, despite his broken arm, hadn't slowed down any, plainly determined not to let his injury ruin his fun. In any case, Charlotte didn't have the heart to suggest they stay home because of it. Truthfully, she didn't think she could bear the thought of missing the opportunity to dance with Reed.
After the meal, they all scattered to various tasks and then it was time to bathe the children. Later in the evening, Charlotte sought refuge in the parlor.
"Are you avoiding me?" Reed asked, entering the room so silently she hadn't time to arrange her skirts or her thoughts.
"Of course not," she scoffed, putting down the book she'd been staring at for ten minutes without reading a word. She hadn't secretly been fearing this meeting, had she?
"So you're not hiding in here?" he asked as he sat down and leaned his head back against the sofa. He wasn't even looking at her. His questions seemed to be for conversation's sake, not because he believed what he was asking.
It was true that she rarely came into the parlor. But, it had taken on a different air since the children started u
sing it as a place to play, losing the dreary mustiness of years of disuse. Tonight, though, with Thomas and Lily in bed, Charlotte was simply appreciating the peacefulness.
"You haven't answered my question?" His head turned in her direction, his eyes a warm blue tonight, reflecting a man with a hard day's work behind him.
"What do I have to hide out from?"
Reed smiled at her before closing his eyes. "A counter question. Hmm. As far as I'm concerned, nothing. Last night, I could barely sleep. I kept having hellish fantasies about what could have happened if we hadn't got to Lily and Thomas in time. I still can barely believe how lucky we were. I just couldn't bear the thought of—"
He broke off abruptly, and she watched him run his palm over his eyes. It was obvious his weariness was making him say more than he'd intended, but she filed the small kernel of information away for another time when he was more up to discussing it.
Charlotte touched his shoulder, almost without meaning to, and watched him smile again, his eyes still closed. Then, taking a deep breath, he continued, "There were other reasons I found it hard to sleep."
She reddened, feeling an abrupt rush of blood to her cheeks and glad that he was not looking at her.
"While I was at the mines today, I kept wondering what you might be thinking and feeling."
"I was thinking of you," she told him truthfully, "and wondering the same."
Without lifting his head, he reached out and took hold of her hand, pulling it over to rest on his leg and keeping his own hand firmly on top.
"We should discuss... everything. There's a lot to talk about and," he paused to yawn broadly, "and something I need to tell you."
She took a deep breath, forcing her mind to quash the immediate influx of wild ideas. Let him tell me before I jump to some unfounded fear, she scolded herself. And as his hand relaxed its hold on hers, she calmed herself. Clearly, it was nothing serious. Still, he was silent.
"Reed?" she prompted.
The sound of his first deep snore reached her ears.
* * *
On Saturday, there was an undercurrent of excitement in Charlotte's house. Reed had prepared his Aunt Maya's pear crisps for the potluck supper before lunch, and Lily had wanted her bath early, then sat on her bed reading to keep clean. Wisely, Charlotte kept Thomas out of his party clothes until the last moment. Finally, at dusk, everyone was nearly ready.
Charlotte's fondest memory of the day, she thought as she finished dressing, was of Reed beside the kitchen table, fussing over his two pie plates, covered from head to foot with a mix of what appeared to be oats and cinnamon.
He had looked up at her as she'd entered the kitchen, with raccoon eyes in a grimy face. And against all odds, this Boston lawyer had smiled and looked more appealing to her than ever.
After one last look in the oval mirror that stood in its maple frame in the corner of her room, Charlotte headed for the stairs. It seemed remarkable to her that all four of them had managed to get ready on time.
She heard Reed pull the wagon around front. The first to greet her, though, was Thomas, standing at the door with wide eyes. Then Lily came out of the parlor.
"You look lovely, Aunt Charlotte."
She thanked them both, silently blessing the little girl for her words were the vote of confidence that Charlotte needed. Now it was only Reed whom—
The front door opened, and Charlotte turned slowly, feeling all tingly with anticipation. She wanted to bowl the man over. She appeared to succeed. His jaw actually dropped for an instant as he took in the sight of her and his eyes widened as Thomas's had.
He took her in with one glance, and he whistled, long and steady, bringing an immediate flush to her cheeks. Then he let his gaze slowly travel the length of her. He started with her shining chestnut hair; she'd used a black velvet clasp to pull it elegantly away from her face, allowing it to cascade down her back in loose coppery curls.
Then his eyes halted at the deep neckline of her dress, where the gentle curve of her breasts rose above the dark lace chemisette. The pale color of her skin contrasted tantalizingly with the shimmering green of the fabric.
The cut of the dress accentuated her small waist, dipping to a deep V-shape before blossoming out in a bell of emerald silk. The only thing he couldn't see were the sheer stockings, and Charlotte had the daring thought of showing them to him later. But for now, she had to break the spell.
She looked Reed up and down in turn, dressed finely in dark gray trousers that snugly fit his thighs and a freshly boiled shirt that showed off the expanse of his shoulders. As he promised Lily, he was wearing his new silk tie, deep green with small black stripes.
Charlotte put her hands on her hips and whistled right back at him, making the children giggle.
"You, sir, look a huckleberry above most people's persimmons."
Reed laughed out loud at that as he reached for his charcoal frock coat, hung over her office door out of reach of little grabbing hands.
"Let's collect your pear crisps and get under way," Charlotte said, striding past him to the kitchen.
"Where have you been hiding?" he called after her.
"It's Aun' Charlie," Thomas said delightedly, trying to solve Reed's confusion.
"I think you're right, Thomas," she heard him say. "And I think Aunt Charlotte will make every head turn at the dance tonight."
Oh, she was fairly certain that every head would turn. Charlotte Sanborn at a dance! With a man! Still, she treasured his words, not to mention his heated glance that had started her butterflies fluttering again. She wanted more than all the world for him to take her in his arms again, to kiss her, and to go on with what they'd started.
She handed each of the children a pie and told them to head outside. Reed paused to pick up her black shawl from the hall stand.
"You clean up really well for a western writer. A sweet, delectable huckleberry," he murmured into her ear. "Isn't that what you said?" She shivered as he draped her wrap around her shoulders before tucking her arm under his.
"Your carriage," he said, using the word loosely, referring to her old wagon, "awaits you, my lady. And may I tell you, your beauty is wasted on a barn dance. You would dazzle all of Boston society. Think about it."
She did, for about half a second, and then doubt crept into her thoughts. Was he only trying to get her to agree to move east so he could fulfill his duties as executor of her cousin's will?
She tried to shake off that thought, but he seemed such a practiced and smooth attorney. Certainly, it wouldn't be beyond his abilities to manipulate her feelings. But the kisses had been real—the intimacy they'd shared had been magical.
She let Reed help her onto the front seat, as the children clambered onto the clean blanket lining the rear. "No rips or tears, Thomas," Charlotte warned. "And Lily, dear, be careful of those stockings."
"You sound almost motherly," Reed said as he climbed up beside her taking the reins. "But then," he dipped his head to her ear so Lily and Thomas couldn't hear, "you look anything but that tonight. More like a temptress."
She shivered at his words and the timbre of his voice. For a few minutes, she forgot her anxiety. But all too quickly the lights of the town appeared before them, and she bit her lip. Showing up was, for her, a momentous occasion that would draw stares and whispers, but showing up with a handsome man and two sweet children would bring about an utter flurry of gossip and speculation.
Reed drove them along the main street to Drake's barn. By the number of wagons and traps and horses, Charlotte knew most of the townspeople had already arrived. Reed circled around the enormous wooden building until he found a place in the back where Alfred could graze, and then he unhitched him and tied him to the rear of the wagon.
"Here we go," Reed said turning to the children, who started to run toward the barn before Charlotte had even climbed down.
"Halt," Reed called after them. Charlotte watched them freeze in their tracks, barely containing their excitement over
the bright lights and music and voices emanating from the building before them.
"My lady." Reed held his hand up to her. She took it, standing up and placing one green satin shoe on the running board. But in an instant, he released her hand and took her around the waist. She gasped as he lifted her up and set her down gently on the grass. His hands lingered a moment, and she looked up at his face.
He smiled, and she swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding in her throat—nervous over the dance and sweetly terrified over her own strong reactions to Reed. Then his thumbs caressed her waist through the satin dress, and she lost the feeling of terror altogether.
"Remember," he said, looking into her clear green eyes, "you've known these people all your life. They just haven't known you." He released her, took her arm through his, and started toward the barn. The children seemed to take this as permission to go ahead and ran toward the large open doors of the gaily lit barn.
At the entrance, Charlotte gasped at the transformation of the normally plain and practical barn. So this was what she'd been missing. It was a fairy world of oil lanterns, tables laden with food all around the perimeter, the fresh smell of beeswax, and even a platform of wood and clean, pungent hay to support the musicians.
Just then, Anna Webster passed by with a pie and a greeting.
"That dress is absolutely perfect on you, Charlotte," she said. "And your man?"
Charlotte blushed. Yes, he's perfect, too, she thought.
"Anna, this is Mr. Malloy from Boston. Mr. Malloy, this is Miss Webster. Her father owns the piece goods store."
"Enchanted," Reed said.
"Likewise." Anna was all smiles. "I hope you'll try my pie later."
"Oh," Charlotte exclaimed, remembering the pear crisps. In their excitement, the children had left them in the wagon.
"The dessert," she exclaimed, about to go get them herself, but Reed stopped her.
"No, you don't. I get the feeling if I let you go, you won't come back. Why don't you pour us some punch, and I'll go get them."
The Defiant Hearts Series Box Set Page 19