Kissing in the Dark (12 page)

His lip quirked up.

“Let me put a cool towel around your shoulders while you finish your story” She worked the pump and soaked one of the remaining linens, then wrung the excess water into the tub. “Brace yourself,” she said, then draped it over his shoulders.

He sucked in his breath. “Good God, woman! The shock just stopped my heart.”

She choked back a laugh. “Are you going to finish your story, or should I stop massaging your back and let you get dressed?”

“It’s not a pretty story.”

“I wasn’t expecting one.”

“All right. When Radford realized what he’d done to Kyle, he fell apart. He couldn’t eat or sleep. He had nightmares that woke the house. One night it scared Rebecca so badly that she ran out of the house in her nightdress and bare feet. It was winter, and she was only four.”

“Wait a minute. How can . . . Evelyn and Radford weren’t married yet.”

“Another woman gave birth to Rebecca shortly after Radford was mustered out of his regiment. Apparently she didn’t want a baby or a husband, so she left Rebecca with Radford and disappeared.”

“That poor little girl.”

“Rebecca found a loving mother in Evelyn. There’s always been a special bond between the two of them.”

“I noticed that in church this morning. They’re both so pretty and have such lovely hair, I thought they were mother and daughter.”

“They are.”

No two words could have touched Faith more deeply. Tears blurred her eyes, and she looked toward the ceiling and blinked to keep them from dropping onto his back.

“If it wasn’t for Evelyn and Rebecca, I don’t think Radford would have pulled himself back from the past.”

Faith swallowed her sadness. “War would scar any man.”

“And leave some men so tortured they have to fight another war to get their life back. Radford had to do that when he came home.”

“Did Kyle ever forgive him?” she asked.

“Kyle is as stubborn as they come, but yes, after stewing a while, he forgave Radford.”

“So Kyle’s a stubborn but forgiving man?”

“And the rock in our family. He kept our sawmill running and held everything together when my dad died.”

“For some reason I see
you
in that position.”

He peered at her from the corner of his eye. “Kyle was the boss. I was the peacekeeper. My younger brother Boyd was the one who made us laugh. Even when we wanted to pound him—and Kyle always wanted to pound him—Boyd could make us laugh. He still does.”

“Hmm . . . I’m beginning to understand your analogy about trees and their grain. Your mother raised a deep-thinker, a rock, a jester, and a peacekeeper. Sounds like she had her hands full.”

He laughed. “Which is exactly why my father made me promise to keep the peace and hold our family together.”

“Which makes me more irritated that your brothers didn’t help you today, or at least allow that other man to step in.”

“That other man was Wayne Archer and he was looking to earn himself some votes for the upcoming election for sheriff.”

“He’s running against you?” she asked in surprise.

“And would have liked nothing better than to prove me incompetent in front of all those people watching. My brothers showed great restraint and respect by letting me handle that situation alone.”

“I hadn’t thought . . . I’m sorry I judged them without knowing the politics involved.”

“Does that mean you were concerned about me?” he asked, rolling onto his back.

Panic kept her gaze locked on his face. God only knew if that towel was covering him. “I would be concerned about anyone in a fight.”

He gripped her balm-soaked fingers. “Can I call on you this evening?”

“I . . . of course, Sheriff. I can give you another treatment at nine o’clock if the time suits you.”

He rocked upward and swung his legs off the table, then slid off and stood beside her. “I’m not asking for a shoulder treatment, Faith. My call would be personal, to allow us time to become better acquainted.”

Oh, Lord
. . . Iris would be ecstatic, but Faith was terrified. She could never tell where this man was going with his questions and those private looks that were growing more heated by the minute; but worse, she had no idea how she would respond, because one smile from him could melt her kneecaps. And was that towel still hooked around his waist?

He squeezed her hands. “I would like to court you.”

“Oh . . . I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He brought her palms to his thudding, hair-covered chest, shocking her, thrilling her. “I’ve never felt this way about a woman. And I think your heart is banging out the same message.”

It was thudding so hard she couldn’t breathe. Hope, fear, and a desperate need to feel his mouth on hers kept her palms pressed to his hard, warm chest.

“Did I misunderstand Iris when she said you were looking for a husband?”

She shook her head. She longed for a noble, handsome, and tender man with strong, protective arms to welcome Adam and Cora, and keep them safe. She wanted a man like the sheriff to hold her against his warm body and love her, but she wasn’t worthy of a man like him. “I’m not sure we would suit.”

“Let’s find out.” He dipped his head and pressed his warm, firm lips to hers.

She felt as if she kissed the sun. His hot mouth melted her. The birds in her stomach scattered sideways then swept upward en masse to fly in a frenzied circle that left her breathless and dizzy

His arms encircled her, his heart pounding against her palms, a low moan vibrating in his throat as he deepened the kiss. She’d heard that same intimate sound when massaging his back, when her hands gave him pleasure. To hear it now while he was kissing her, while he held her against his hard, naked chest thrilled and frightened her. He was too big, too strong, too . . . umm . . . gentle . . . and tender. His tongue delved into her mouth, slow and insistent, sparking a fire deep in her belly.

He broke the kiss with a shaky outrush of breath, gazing down at her with stormy eyes. “I’d say we suit just fine.”

She gazed up at him with her fists bunched against his chest and her body quaking, lost in the heat of his gaze.

“You can give me your answer this evening.” He pressed a polite kiss to her lips, then stepped away.

Dazed and too weak-kneed to move, Faith leaned against the table. There was a fine line between arrogance and self-confidence, and this strong, proud man walked dead center of that line.

He hooked his thumbs beneath the linen that was thankfully anchored around his waist, and paused with a roguish smile on his face. “I’m about to shuck this towel. Don’t suppose you’d like to stay and help me dress?”

With a gasp, Faith fled the room, at war with the rash, reckless part of her that would like nothing better.

Chapter 10

Faith’s stomach was full for the first time in weeks. A man from the Taylor Hotel had delivered a large roast beef with bowls of potatoes, vegetables, and two apple pies, along with a note from the sheriff thanking her for generously opening her business for him.

“That meal had to cost the sheriff a fortune,” Dahlia said, stacking clean plates back in the wooden crate the hotel had shipped them in.

Faith had expected to trade her services for lumber, but after eating like paupers for the last month, this unexpected meal was a blessing. Cora and Adam had eaten with such unabashed joy it had moved her to tears. They were so full from their meal, they flopped on their pallets at the far end of the building and hadn’t moved since. Adam was engrossed in a book, but Cora was lying on her back thumping her heels against the wall, waiting for Faith to finish washing dishes and come read her a story.

Yet, Faith desperately needed to talk to Aster, the most levelheaded of her aunts, and to Iris, who could negotiate her way around any situation. She rinsed a bowl and handed it to Tansy.

“I need a few minutes alone with Iris and Aster,” she said. “Would you and Dahlia tell Cora a story, and keep Adam settled with his book until I finish here?”

Tansy put the bowl in the crate of dishes that Adam would return to the Taylor Hotel tomorrow. “Of course, dahlin’. The way my back aches, you won’t have to ask twice.” She dropped her towel on their makeshift counter, then nudged Dahlia. “Let these gals finish the dishes while we concoct a story for Cora.”

“It’ll be a trial to relax for a while, but I’ll manage,” Dahlia agreed. She tossed her towel over the edge of the crate, and followed Tansy to their cluster of straw pallets at the back of the building.

Their little family had set up a makeshift kitchen in one corner of the building, using planks atop flour barrels for counters, and large tin pans for dish tubs. The only furniture they’d brought with them was Faith’s mother’s mahogany kitchen table, which had been the center of their family gatherings for as long as Faith could remember. They’d left the chairs in favor of flats of herbs that would better serve their new business; flour barrels and solid planks worked suitably well for table seating.

“What’s wrong?” Aster asked, her face pinched with worry.

Faith dried her hands on her apron. “Have you ever been married?”

Aster’s white eyebrows whisked upward. The ebony arches above Iris’s eyes lifted, too, but neither woman spoke.

“Mama said stormy weather drove each of you to her door, but she never said what kind of storm it was.”

“Does it matter?” Aster asked.

“Yes.” Faith sighed. “I need to know who you were before you met Mama.”

“Honey, I’m not even sure I can remember,” Aster said.

“What was your name? Before you became one of Mama’s flowers.”

Aster braced her hand on the counter, a towel bunched beneath her fingers. “Marian. And I was no different than any other hardworking farm girl, but I hated that life and my father’s heavy fists and my mother’s pathetic mewling. By my sixteenth birthday, I couldn’t stomach one more day of their endless drama, so I left and began my own. Four years later I found your mother and my first real family.”

“So, you never married?”

“No. I lost that opportunity decades ago. And I haven’t been particularly fond of the men I’ve known, so the point is moot.”

“How about you, Aunt Iris? Have you ever been married?”

“My mixed blood didn’t allow me to fit into any man’s world. I was too Japanese.”

“Were you born in Japan?”

“Right here in America,” she said. “My father was a commodore in the U.S. Navy, and a son of a wealthy banker from New York City. He was already married thirty years when he sailed his ship into Tokyo and met my mother. He smuggled her onto his ship and brought her to New York and made her his mistress. She conceived me on the ship during the crossing.”

Faith pressed her hand to her chest. “How dreadful. Forgive me for asking something so personal.”

Iris waved away the apology. “He cared deeply for my mother and provided very well for her until he died. But his estate went to his wife and children. My mother was forced to find herself another provider. Unfortunately, that man preferred her daughter Akiko.”

“Oh, Iris . . .” Faith’s eyes misted and she wanted to kick herself. “How unkind I’ve been to ask such intimate questions of you and Aster.”

Iris shrugged. “Life is intimate even when you don’t want it to be. Sometimes you enjoy that. Sometimes you simply bear it. Either way you’ve got to live each day the best you can.”

“Your life hasn’t been much easier,” Aster added.

Faith nodded because it was true, and because she was too choked up to speak. Her aunts hadn’t just lost their homes, they’d lost their names and the very cores of who they were.

“Don’t fret over this,” Iris said. “When I found your mother’s house and met Aster and Tansy and Dahlia, I gladly became Iris—a beautiful flower that grows in the wild.”

Faith blinked the moisture from her eyes. “All this time I thought you’d chosen it from the Iliad. Iris, the goddess of the rainbow.”

Iris hooted in amusement. “I like that.” She cocked her chin and feigned a thoughtful pose. “Goddess of the rainbow. Yes, that’s lovely. Tonight I’ll be a sultry hue of violet. Tomorrow I’ll be—”

“A wilted flower just like the rest of us,” Aster said in her too-frank manner.

“You’re not wilted flowers,” Faith insisted. “You can take back your real names and start over here.”

Aster shook her head. “I’ve been Aster for so long I couldn’t answer to anything else.”

“Same for me,” Iris said. “Besides, I think I enjoy being a rainbow goddess.”

Despite their sad stories, Faith smiled. “You’re still so young, Aunt Iris, does it bother you that you never married?”

“I’m too fond of men to ever settle for just one.”

A tad of panic shot through Faith. “But you will now. Right?” Iris’s silence increased Faith’s heartbeat. “You all agreed to look for a husband here.”

“And we’ll look as promised,” Aster said.

“That doesn’t mean we’ll find a man willing to marry us,” Iris added.

“You can’t pin your hopes on me.”

“We have to, Faith. You know that,” Aster said. “What man is going to want to marry an ex-prostitute?”

“Or a woman who looks Japanese?”

“You’re kind, beautiful women, and you deserve love.”

“So do you, dear. Much more than us. You’re young, and have everything to look forward to.”

“With that handsome sheriff,” Iris said with a wink.

“You should have never told him I was looking for a husband. Now he wants to court me.”

“He does?” Aster asked, incredulous.

“Wonderful!” Iris clapped her hands. “Say yes.”

“I can’t say yes.”

“Of course you can. You must!” Aster said. “The man just sent us a meal fit for a king.”

Faith tugged her apron ties loose. “What if he learns the truth about us? What then?”

“All the more reason to marry him quickly, so it’s too late for him to change his mind.”

But it wouldn’t be too late for him to hate her, and that’s what she couldn’t bear. Sheriff Grayson was the kind of man she could fall in love with. To gain his affection and possibly his love, only to lose it when he learned the truth, would be devastating. “I can’t do it. It’s underhanded and . . . the sheriff is too respectable for me.”