More Than Words Can Say

by Karen Witemeyer

  Abigail sighed. “Me too. I just wish I could do something to fix it for her.”

  “You can stand by her. Might not fix the problem, but it’ll give her the courage to face it.”

  She nuzzled a little closer and slid her palm up to rest over her husband’s heart. “I know, but the Martha in me wants to do something.”

  “Don’t you go sellin’ Martha short, now,” Zach said, a smile in his voice. “As I recall, she was the one who ran out to meet the Lord on the road after her brother died, while her sister stayed home with the mourners. Martha confessed Jesus as the Christ and believed he could do anything through his Father’s power. That there’s a woman of faith.”

  “Yes, well, she also told Jesus the body would stink after being in the tomb for four days when the Lord ordered the stone rolled away.”

  Zach chuckled. “Gotta love a practical woman. Best kind to have around in a crisis. Keeps a man grounded.”

  Grounded was all fine and good, but Abigail suddenly found she wanted to be the one to enable Zach to fly.

  CHAPTER

  26

  “Hey! Watch it.” Reuben ducked an instant before the planks Zach carried on his shoulder slapped him across the eyes. “You trying to take my head off?”

  “Sorry,” Zach mumbled, fighting the instinct to swerve back to correct his error. Doing so would bring the wood around again and take Reuben out from behind, completely invalidating his apology. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Didn’t see me? I’m right in front of you.” His partner placed a hand on the planks, as if not quite trusting Zach to keep them still, and slid up their length until he stood less than six inches from Zach. Reuben stroked his jaw and raised a brow. “How could you possibly miss this good-looking mug?”

  “Guess the angelic shine blinded me,” Zach said, completely stone-faced.

  Reuben busted out a laugh, then slapped Zach’s free shoulder. “My pulchritude is legendary, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me who has you distracted.” He winked. “Tonight’s the night, right?” He waggled his eyebrows. “The picnic, the sunset, holding her close on horseback . . . You’ve been planning this little escapade for days. I’m amazed you haven’t sawn off a finger or two by now.”

  “Need ’em to steer the horse.”

  “Uh-huh.” Reuben rolled his eyes. “Try not to overwhelm her with your gushing sentimentality when you’re out there tonight.”

  Zach sidestepped his know-it-all partner and dropped the fresh-cut boards onto the planing pile. “Abigail’s a practical woman.” One of the things he liked best about her. “She doesn’t need gushing sentimentality.”

  He brushed the sawdust from his hands and turned, only to spy Reuben’s wagging head and pitying expression, clearly indicating his opinion of Zach’s intelligence. Or lack thereof.

  “All women need gushing sentimentality, my friend. Well, maybe not gushing, and certainly not anything insincere, but a woman wants sweet words from her man. Even if she tells you she doesn’t—trust me, she does.” Reuben swaggered forward and grabbed Zach’s shoulder. “After being married to Audrey for close to a dozen years, I’ve picked up a few pearls of wisdom. One of my favorite being that sweet words inspire warm feelings. And warm feelings from one’s wife open many a desirable door.” He released his grip on Zach’s shoulder to thump him on the back.

  Zach had to admit that he craved what his friend had. Not just the physical intimacy that Reuben’s waggling eyebrows obviously referred to, but the closeness he had with his wife. A closeness that allowed him to know what she needed without her even having to say it aloud.

  Zach had never experienced that kind of closeness with another person. Maybe with his mother, but he couldn’t remember her. He’d idolized his father, the legendary riverboat gambler who taught his son card tricks and knew a hundred schemes to outplay an opponent. Yet despite the good times they shared, Zach would not consider them close. Jedidiah Mitchell had intentionally held himself apart from his son. Most likely for Zach’s protection, but the barrier had existed all the same. He had separated himself from a boy too young to follow him into high stakes saloons in good times and too vulnerable for the dark alleyways and underhanded deals in bad times. Then there was Grandfather. With his cane and his resentment and the cotton he forced Zach to work until his fingers bled and his back gave out. A thousand miles wasn’t enough distance between them, even if the man was surely dead by now.

  Zach had closed himself off after escaping Grandfather’s farm and become a loner, depending on no one but himself. Until the Children’s Aid Society got their hooks into him. Even then, he’d walled himself off. Didn’t socialize with the other kids in the orphanage. Bucked the system as often as possible in the hopes of getting kicked out. It would’ve worked too, except they opted to rid themselves of him by sticking him on one of the orphan trains headed west and trying to farm him out as free labor under the guise of adoption. No way was he going to work another farm, though, so he did what he did best—sabotaged himself. Acted belligerent, disrespectful, and downright mean to make sure no one wanted him. His size and stature made it difficult to dissuade those in the market for a field hand, but a well-placed threat to kill them in their sleep usually did the trick.

  Then the train derailed, and Hamilton Pearson saved Zach’s life, losing his own in the process and leaving his four-year-old sister without a protector. Evie and her mismatched eyes, Seth with his sickly constitution—Zach couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves. They’d never make it on their own. So, at thirteen, Zach became head of the Hamilton family. A family more real than any he’d had blood ties to. Yet even with his adoptive siblings, he’d still held part of himself back. He’d been the oldest, the one the others depended on for survival. So he’d ensured they survived. No matter what that entailed, taking pains to protect them from any taint he accrued along the way. His secrets preserved their innocence, yet they also prevented true closeness.

  Could he really have such a thing with Abigail? Or would she pull away once she learned the truth about his past?

  “Easy, man. If that frown gets stuck, your wife will never get on that horse with you.”

  Zach blinked at Reuben’s words. His partner’s tone teased, yet his eyes held a concerned light that proved their friendship went deeper than business.

  “Abigail’s too resilient to be scared off by a little frown.” The thought cheered Zach a bit, boosted his confidence. She was resilient. She’d handled her sister’s mistakes with grace and a fighting spirit. Surely she’d handle his the same way.

  If she loved him.

  Did she love him?

  His gut tightened. He wanted her love. Wanted her to accept him. All of him.

  Did that mean he loved her?

  He liked her. Admired her. Desired her. But love? He wasn’t sure what that was. He loved Seth and Evie, he supposed, if love meant feeling unswerving loyalty, wanting whatever was best for them, and being willing to fight to the death to protect them. He felt those things for Abigail, yet he felt them for Rosalind too. Because they were family. But the craving he had for Abigail went deeper than his signature on a marriage license. Deeper than a sense of responsibility and fidelity.

  He wanted to throw open the cellar door and let all his secrets escape so her light could shine into his dark places. Yet at the same time, he wanted to padlock that door shut and never risk her disappointment.

  Was that love? If so, he couldn’t fathom why poets waxed on about it being such a blissful state. As far as he could tell, it was about as blissful as riding an unbroke horse, a bone-rattling endeavor where one held on for dear life, unable to recognize if he was making progress until either the horse quit buckin’ or the ground smacked him in the face.

  ’Course, he was probably doing it wrong.

  “Do I need to kick you in the pants to get you moving?” Reuben threatened. He swept his hand out in an exaggerated gesture, pointing toward the office. “The door’s that way.
”

  Maybe Zach did need a kick in the pants if it meant getting out of his own head.

  “I’m going,” he said, glaring at Reuben for good measure. He couldn’t have him thinking Zach actually appreciated his interference.

  He’d made it halfway across the lumber shed floor when Reuben called out to him. “Zach?”

  He turned, expecting a smirk or eyebrow waggle, anything but the supportive comradery etched into his friend’s face.

  “Remember. She chose you.”

  Zach nodded, then resumed his walk to the door. His back a little straighter, his chin a little higher, and his stride carrying a touch more strut than he’d sported a moment ago.

  Every time a man on horseback passed her shop window after closing time, Abigail’s heart rate tripled and her breathing grew ragged. When traffic in the square picked up just before five o’clock, she’d been forced to cease polishing her eatery tables and retreat to the kitchen in order to preserve her sanity. Repeated incidents of anticipatory palpitations were quite detrimental to one’s mental health.

  How exactly was a woman supposed to prepare for an abduction? Especially when said abduction involved her handsome husband on a noble steed. The husband who’d left her that morning with a blazing kiss and a promise to steal her away the next time he saw her. The husband who was fast becoming the center of her world.

  Needing something to occupy her hands if not her mind, she grabbed a broom and started sweeping. Dust was never fully eradicated, after all. Even if one had swept the same area a mere hour before.

  She shuffled the broom in small strokes, careful not to sweep too vigorously. It wouldn’t do to dirty the hem of her second-best skirt, the same one she’d worn when she proposed to her husband all those weeks ago. The russet color hid most dirt, her clothes being as practical as their owner, but it hadn’t been pragmatism that led her to change into this ensemble. It had been pure sentiment. Zach probably wouldn’t notice or care, but putting on this particular outfit made her feel less like a Martha and more like a wife ready to be wooed. Possibly even one who would do a little wooing of her own.

  Abigail had swept her way around the worktable when the sound of boots thumping on the back stoop stole her breath. Zach!

  A picture of what she must look like flashed through her mind. She didn’t want her husband to find her like this, broom in hand like a scullery maid. She wanted to look enticing. Elegant. Inviting.

  Dashing around the worktable, she tossed the broom at the corner with a clatter and made for the stairs. If she could just get to the top, she could turn and come down again, making an entrance like a debutante at a ball.

  She grabbed a fistful of skirt, her heart pumping as she raced up the stairs. But before she could make it halfway, a strong arm snatched her from behind. Abigail gasped as her feet lifted from the stairs. Her back connected with a warm, wonderfully familiar chest, and her gasp transformed into a delighted giggle.

  “Zach!” She swatted at the arm banded around her middle. “This wasn’t supposed to be a literal abduction.”

  The slight abrasion of his afternoon stubble tickled her neck as he leaned his face next to hers. “Wasn’t it?”

  Shivers coursed over her skin. Heavens. What was she supposed to say to that?

  Thankfully, he didn’t seem to require a response. He simply scooped up her dangling legs and started marching toward the back door.

  Mercy, but he was strong. One would think she barely weighed a hundred pounds, the way he carted her around with so little effort. For the first time in her big-boned, full-figured life, she actually felt . . . delicate.

  Until he neared the door and made no move to put her down. Then all she felt was panic.

  She grabbed him about the neck with both arms and tried to pull herself up out of his hold. “You can’t carry me outside.”

  He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wanna bet?”

  “Zach, please.” She kicked her heels against his hip, her growing panic overriding her delight in his possessive display. “I don’t want to be a spectacle.”

  “Not to fear, Mrs. Hamilton. I have everything under control.”

  No one had everything under control. To prove that point, Abigail did the only thing she could think of to knock her man off balance. She grabbed his face, dragged his lips toward hers, and kissed him for all she was worth.

  All forward motion ceased. Interior motion, however, sped up to an alarming rate as her husband turned his full attention to their kiss. Heart pumping faster than the piston on a speeding locomotive, Abby twisted in his arms to face him more fully. He complied with her unspoken request and gentled his hold. Her legs slid free, and her feet came to rest on the floor as his hands splayed over her back.

  She should feel triumphant at accomplishing her goal, but there wasn’t room for triumph with all the other feelings rushing through her. Desire. Passion. Belonging. Love.

  Abigail lifted up on her tiptoes and trailed her hands down from his face to his shoulders then his chest. His muscles quivered beneath her fingertips.

  Zach’s lips slanted more fully over hers, drawing her into him, and all rational thought fled. Heavens, but she loved this man.

  Just when she thought her knees would complete their transformation into jelly, Zach lifted his face from hers. He panted slightly, making her own breathless state much less embarrassing.

  “Guess I woulda lost that bet,” he murmured with a half grin.

  Abigail smiled, feeling light and flirty and happier than she’d been in ages. She danced away from her husband, catching his hand as she went. Opening the door to the alley, she tugged him after her and cast a playful glance over her shoulder as she went. “Two can play at this abduction game, you know.”

  Heat shot from his dark blue eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Feeling like a fairy-tale princess, Abigail allowed her husband to set her upon his horse and then leaned back against him once he mounted behind her. No longer able to dredge up much concern about what others might think of a professional businesswoman in the arms of her husband in broad daylight, she relaxed and even smiled as her husband absconded with her in full view of the town.

  With the sun warm and lovely overhead, they left the bustle of Honey Grove behind and meandered through the countryside. Birds serenaded them while a gentle breeze strummed the treetops like a guitar. It was the single most beautiful day of her life.

  Until Zach turned his horse east along the path.

  Abigail stiffened. No. Please. Anywhere but there.

  But where else could they be headed? It was the only place the path led.

  You can do this, Abby. It’s been years. It probably doesn’t even look the same.

  Only it did. Exactly the way it appeared in her nightmares. The giant live oak towered over the innocent meadow like a merciless monster ready to destroy the lives of whoever ventured too close.

  She pushed backward against her husband, no longer leaning against him in lazy, romantic abandon but actively pushing, desperate to get away from the Death Tree that loomed closer with every step of the horse’s hooves.

  CHAPTER

  27

  Zach slowed Jack with a gentle tug on the reins. Something was wrong. He scanned the area but found no threat. No disturbance. Just prairie grass, trees, and the pretty little stream he’d planned to sit beside as he picnicked with his wife.

  Only the woman who had moments ago been so pliant and soft as she snuggled against him had gone as stiff as a 4×4 hickory post. Worse, she seemed to be trying to crawl over his shoulder to get away from something. The only thing in front of them was a tree. It might be a tad on the tall side, but it wasn’t like it was going to pull up its roots and start chasing them.

  What had his sensible wife so spooked?

  “Abigail?” Signaling Jack with his legs to halt, Zach released the reins and took hold of his wife.

  “Not here, Zach,” she murmured. “Anywhere but here.” />
  Again he scanned his surroundings. It was one of the prettiest spots in the area. Reuben brought Audrey here on special occasions. Apparently it used to be a trysting place for young couples years ago, but few people came out here anymore. That made it private. Secluded. The perfect place to woo one’s wife. Unless, of course, one’s wife was terrified of the tree standing guard over the small meadow.

  “Easy, Abby.” He tugged her back down into his lap and tried to soothe her by rubbing her arms, but she wasn’t in the mood to be soothed. She continued squirming and twisting away from the view in front of them. Finally, he smartened up enough to turn the horse so she didn’t have to see the giant oak. That calmed her a little. “We don’t have to have our supper here,” he said. “If you want to go, we’ll go.”

  “No.”

  No? Lord help him. He’d never understand females. “You want to stay?”

  Tremors hit, quaking her hard enough for him to feel them. He wrapped his arms around her and bent his face close to hers. He might not understand what was going on in her head, but a mighty squall was battering her hull, and if he couldn’t figure out how to shelter her from it, he aimed to be her anchor until it passed.

  She twisted in his lap and pressed her cheek to his chest. “I’m sorry. I–I’m ruining everything.” Her voice cracked.

  “Nothin’s ruined,” he barked, then winced at his curt tone. Not exactly the compassionate response a woman fighting unseen demons wanted from her man. Time to shut his trap.

  Thankfully, her tears never really got started. His little warrior harnessed her trembling with a few deep breaths before lifting her face.

  “Can . . .” Another deep breath and a brave jutting of her chin. “Can we get down for a minute?”

  Zach nodded, still subscribing to the idea that holding his tongue increased the odds of not screwing things up. He swung his leg over Jack’s rump and settled on the ground while keeping a steadying hand on Abigail. Then he lifted her down beside him.