After the Storm (19 page)

She sat on a chair near where the children were prattling between bites of ice cream. He took another chair and put his feet up on a low stool. Taking a spoonful of ice cream, she let it melt on her tongue. It was luscious, but, without the added zest of his skin, it seemed to be lacking.

“Lottie?” She motioned to the little girl. She had to think of something other than the tempting taste of Samuel's finger.

Lottie bounced up onto the porch, threatening to send the rapidly melting ice cream flying everywhere.

Cailin steadied her daughter's bowl, then put both bowls on the porch floor. Picking up the little girl, she set Lottie on her lap.

“Tell me about Dahi,” she said.

“He's my friend.” Lottie stared at her ice cream.

“Tell me what he looks like.”

With a giggle, Lottie crowed, “But, Mama, you know what he looks like! He's tall.” Her eyes widened. “He's very, very tall.”

“As tall as Samuel?”

She nodded. “And he washes over me so I'm all right.”

Translating
washes
to
watches
, Cailin asked, “Is there anything else you can tell me so I'll know Dahi when I see him?”

Lottie giggled again. “Mama, he's indibble.”

“Invisible,” Samuel said as he sat in the chair next to them.

“That's what I said!” Lottie slid off Cailin's lap and put her hands on her hips. “Indibble! But one day, Mama, he'll be dibble—dizzle,” she corrected herself with a laugh. “Then you'll see I'm right.”

Bending down to get the little girl's bowl and hoping Lottie did not see her smile, Cailin said, “I'm sure I will. Just let me know the day he's visible.” Cautioning her daughter to be careful as she went to sit on the stairs, she looked at Samuel.

He shrugged. “That's more than I ever knew about Dahi, her indibble friend.”

“It doesn't seem to be doing her any harm to believe in him.”

“Not when she smiles every time she talks about him.” He picked up her bowl and held it out to her.

Cailin sat back in her chair and watched her children enjoy their ice cream. Silence settled on the porch as twilight crawled out from beneath the trees beyond the barn. Insects began their nightly song, a more frantic tune with the hot evening. In the distance, heat lightning danced across the sky as swiftly as the lightning bugs. A glorious spark, then it was gone.

She toyed with her spoon, knowing she should say something to Samuel but not sure what. The easy camaraderie they had shared while the children churned the ice cream had disappeared. It was just as if she and Samuel were much younger and he had come calling at her father's house. As if they stood by the cottage's front door and were trying to decide if he would try to kiss her and if she would let him.

This was absurd! She was a grown woman.

She turned to look at him, but whatever she might have said went unspoken. His gaze enveloped her in a luscious warmth as sweet as any embrace when his broad hand curved along her cheek.

“Would you like some more ice cream?” he asked, his thumb trailing across her lips and setting off a storm of sensations.

“Just ice cream?” She knew she should put an end to this, but his mix of teasing and sensuality enthralled her.

“Ice cream and whatever else you'd like.” His hand settled on her arm. His fingers were as firm and less yielding than the chair. She wanted to touch the rough planes of his tanned face, to trace his lips as he had hers. And not just with her fingertip, but with her mouth.

“Mama! Look at this!”

Cailin pulled back as Samuel swore softly. She understood his frustration because she shared it. Yet she had to be grateful each time the children's intrusions reminded her of the cost of trusting another man with her heart.

Admiring the lightning bug Megan had captured, she looked up when Samuel said, “Brendan, go and get the book on the table in the parlor.”

“A lesson now?” he asked, obviously disgusted at the very thought.

“I thought you might want to read to your sisters again tonight.” He smiled. “Do you think you can read all of the next chapter to them?”

His eyes glistened with pride. “Yes, sir! I can read all of that and more.”

“One chapter will be enough. It's late.”

Cailin smiled as each of her children hugged her and gave her sticky kisses. She watched while they did the same to Samuel. Anyone witnessing this scene would think they were a family, no different from any other. That thought was surprisingly pleasing. She was captivated anew by the idea of staying on this farm where her children were happy … and where Samuel was.

Calling after the children to leave their dirty dishes on the kitchen table, Cailin stood. She set her dish on the seat of the chair and went to the railing to look out into the night. In the few weeks since she had stumbled up the road, this place had seeped into her heart. It resembled Ireland so slightly; only the scents from the fields brought back memories of her life there. Still, this farm at the end of the dirt road had become a place she would always hold dear. It would be a sweet memory … if she left.

Where had that thought come from? It should have been
when
she left, not if. Yet, as she gazed out into the night, she knew she had already begun questioning whether she wanted to return to Ireland. Here her children could go to school. Here they could grow up to be whatever they wanted to be. Here was where Samuel lived.

“You're wearing that pensive expression again,” Samuel said, coming to stand beside her as if she had spoken his name aloud. He leaned his arm against the post holding up the roof. “I hope your thoughts are happy ones.”

“Do you know how lucky you are to have found this place?”

“Yes.”

“How
did
you find it?”

He laughed. “I looked on a map and saw the name of the village and decided this was where I wanted to live.”

“Haven?” She looked up at his face, which was shadowed by a day's growth of whiskers. “Why were you seeking a haven, Samuel?”

“Aren't we all searching for one?” He ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “A place where we can set aside our troubles and revel in happiness.”

“Have you found it?”

“I thought I had.”

“Until I bumbled into your life.”

He laughed again. “Not you. Thanington.”

Leaning against the rail, she asked, “What offer did he make to you and the library committee?”

“Money. Lots of it.”

“With what conditions?”

“I should have guessed you'd be much more clear-thinking than Reverend Faulkner and Alice, who were so thrilled with the obvious solution that they wanted to accept it last night. I talked them into asking for a week to consider Thanington's offer.” He rested a hand next to hers on the railing as he asked, “Why is it you're suspicious of his generosity?”

“In Ireland, the English aren't our favorite people, especially one who has anointed himself with a title he doesn't have the right to claim.” Putting her hand over his, she asked, “What does he want?”

“He hasn't said, because I brought the discussion to a quick end. I figure he wants at least his name over the door.”

She rested her head against his arm. “That isn't too much of a price to pay to get the library you want Haven to have.”

“If that was all he wanted, I'd agree wholeheartedly. That much money must be aimed at getting him more.”

“You're a suspicious man, Samuel Jennings. Always looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

He drew her to her feet. “It comes from my years of reading the law, I'm afraid. I learned the good side of people often is only a way to conceal greedy hearts.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I did. That's why I came to Haven. To persuade myself there's a lot of good in a lot of hearts.” He curved his arm around her waist. “And I think I'm getting persuaded until someone like Thanington comes along.”

“He may be harmless in his delusion of being a fancy lord.”

When she ran her fingers along his chin, he smiled. Her own smile vanished beneath his lips as he kissed her with a slow, deep yearning. It urged her to succumb to the need to make love with him until their minds fell from the precipice of sense into the sweet madness of passion.

He drew back, and she moaned a denial. Propping up her face on his thumbs, he said, “You must decide, Cailin, if you're going to look for good, too, or just see the bad. When you make your decision, let me know.”

“I will.”

“Good night.” After a swift brush of his mouth against hers, he picked up the dishes and went into the house.

She looked back out into the darkness. Lightning flashed, distant and impotent, so unlike the fiery craving within her. Glancing at the door, then down at her tightly clasped hands, she knew she must figure out what she wanted. Samuel Jennings was going to be part of her life for as long as it took her to earn enough money to pay for train tickets to New York, so she must get her life back on track—and headed in the right direction. It would be so much easier if her heart stopped beseeching her to trust Samuel even as her head warned, over and over, what had happened when she last had fallen under a handsome man's spell.

Eleven

Brendan called out, “Samuel, where are you?”

Looking up from where he had been checking an ear of corn, he waved to the boy. He smiled as Brendan rushed up to him. “You're just the person I wanted to see. Can you—?”

“What did you say to my mother?” he asked, his arms clasped over his chest. “She's looking so sad.”

“I don't recall saying much to her other than good morning.” He tossed the ear into the half barrel he was using to collect the corn until his wagon was repaired. “What did she say before she started looking sad?”

He shrugged.

“What were you talking about?”

“Oh …” He gulped. “My Grandpa O'Shea.”

He ruffled the boy's hair and said, “I'll see what I can do to cheer her up.”

“Samuel, I'm sorry.” Brendan stared down at his bare feet. “I shouldn't have accused you of upsetting her, but you and she—you, well, you know.”

“I know.” He pointed to the row of corn, not wanting to discuss the uneven course of every conversation between himself and Cailin. “Start here and see if you can finish the row before lunch.”

“Mama wants me and the girls—the girls and me—to go into Haven for her.”

“Do that, and then finish up this row.”

“Yep.” His grin returned as he raced off, leaving a small dust storm in his wake.

Samuel wiped his forehead on his shirt before tucking it back into his trousers. If this hot, dry spell had come a month ago, the crops would have been ruined. Harvesting in the heat was no fun, but at least he would have something to feed the cows he had planned to buy this fall.

As he opened the screen door into the kitchen, which smelled of that morning's eggs and coffee, he smiled. Cailin was humming the tune he often whistled while he finished a chore. Even in that blasted patched dress, she was beguiling as she swayed to the music. He wondered when the next dance would be at the Grange Hall.

“Busy?” he asked.

Cailin halted in mid-note as she looked over her shoulder. She dried off a plate and put it up on the shelf. “I'm done with the dishes. I'm going to do some cleaning. By the time I'm done, the bread will have finished raising, and I'll bake that. There's a cake Brendan's been asking me to make for dessert, so I need to prepare it.”

He raised his hands and laughed. “I wasn't accusing you of not having anything to do. I was wondering if you wanted to take a few minutes and go for a ride.”

“A ride? Where?”

“I've got to see Wyatt Colton to get the axle for the field wagon. Do you want to ride along?”

“Is it far?”

“No, so you'll be back before Brendan and the girls return from Haven.”

She nodded. “It shouldn't take them long to pick up some chocolate and the mail.”

“And you accused me of spoiling them.”

“You accused yourself, if you'll recall. Sending three children into town to pick up some supplies isn't exactly spoiling them.”

Holding up a single finger, he said, “One box of chocolate. Three kids. That seems like a couple too many for the job.”

“All right.” She draped the damp dishrag over the back of the chair. “You've discovered the truth. They were anxious to play with Emma's children, so I figured the errand was a good excuse to let them run off some of their energy on a hot day. Brendan promised he'd be back in time to help you in the cornfields later this afternoon.” Scanning the sky through the door, she asked, “How long does it stay this hot?”

“The weather should break sometime toward the end of September.”

Cailin groaned. “That's weeks away.” She hesitated. “Samuel?” She drew a wrinkled page of newsprint out of her pocket. “I found this in the parlor. I'll talk to the children, so they don't make a mess of your newspaper again.”

He took the crumpled page and tossed it into the air, catching it easily before dropping it back onto the table. She was not fooled by his apparent indifference, because his smile looked forced. When he answered, his voice was strained. “I told them they could have the old newspapers for the rabbit's hutch. This one is one I've already read.” He glanced at her. “You didn't want to read it, did you?”

“No!”

Her fervor was too much, she knew, when he said, “I guess that's a definite answer.”

“Let's go to pick up that axle before it gets much hotter.”

“An excellent idea.”

She started for the dining room, but paused when he moved in front of her. His hand settled on the door frame only a finger's breadth from her. Even though his smile did not change, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.