Tessa McDermid - Family Stories (5 page)

"But you aren't a saint," she said with a saucy grin.

He tugged on the curl. "No, and you should remember that."

Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck. "I do," she said in a husky voice.

"Marian, stop it!" He tugged at her wrists, holding her firmly away. "We need to go back to the house. Now."

"But, Frank..."

"No, Marian." He headed in the direction of the house, her hand tucked inside the crook of his arm, warm against his body. "I won't be chased out of town by an angry father. And if we don't return soon, that's exactly what will happen."

In the shadow of a large oak tree, he paused to check their appearance. With an objective eye, he straightened the col ar of her dress, smoothed her wild curls behind her ears. He brushed his fingers lightly over her cheeks, wiping away a last tear. She shifted her head and planted a soft kiss on his palm.

His hand seemed to burn at the contact. "Marian, you can't do this."

She nodded. "Once we're home, I'll behave like the decorous young woman my parents expect me to be." She turned to him with shining eyes. "But I could sneak into your room tonight—"

He groaned and seized her hand, almost running down the road with her. "Not another word, Marian. I'll find myself locked up in jail for trifling with you—or worse, tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail." He drew her back onto the road.

She giggled. "They haven't tarred and feathered anyone since some salesman came into town last spring, trying to sel us al some worthless tonic. Not sure why, though. His tonic made the women want to rip off their clothes—"

"I'm warning you, Marian."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

A quick glance at her showed that she wasn't the least bit sorry. He struggled against a strong urge to spin her around in the road and kiss her until her teasing expression was again replaced with one of desire. The house loomed before them and he rejected the image of her warm in his arms, releasing her hand and slowing to a more sedate pace as they came in view of the windows.

"You will stay, won't you?" she asked, a foot poised above the bottom step of the back porch.

"I'll stay," he promised.

He fol owed her up the steps, admiring how her skirt clung to the rounded curves of her bottom and the gentle sway of the material as she walked down the hal way. Her parents stil sat in the parlor, their positions unchanged.

"Did you enjoy your walk?" her father asked, looking at them over the top of his Bible.

"Yes, Father, we did." Marian sat down with a soft rustle of skirts and picked up a sewing box next to the couch.

"So, what's your opinion of our fair vil age?"

Frank sat down opposite Marian before replying. "I didn't see much of it, sir, but the weather's very fine."

"You'll discover that this is a most delightful place," Reverend Cooper said. He rested his large Bible on his lap and rubbed his chin. "I was thinking, Frank, that after we see Bates in the morning, we could go by Widow Bartlett's house."

"Widow Bartlett?" Did the reverend want to find him a wife as wel as a job?

"She mentioned that she hopes to take in a few boarders. You seem like a respectable young man. I'm sure the two of you can work out a sensible agreement."

From the color that rose in Marian's cheeks, Frank deduced that the widow Bartlett was a young woman. He lifted one •eyebrow in question and when Marian glared at him, he had his answer. This town was fil ed with pitfal s.

And the most dangerous was sitting right across from him.

He excused himself, saying he needed to fetch his bag before supper. When Marian gave him a worried look, he smiled and watched her settle back on the sofa.

Once he'd retrieved his bag from the barn, he considered striding into the night and putting the Cooper family behind him. Even if Marian did cry herself to sleep for a few nights, she would forget him soon enough.

As he hesitated at the edge of the vil age, the scent of a rose floated toward him and he felt again her arms around his neck, her soft lips pressing against his. With a moan that startled several birds in the tree above him, he turned toward town and the Coopers' house.

Supper was a quiet meal, cold leftovers from lunch served by a silent Mrs. Cooper and a stil -glowering Marian. Reverend Cooper kept up a monologue based on his readings of the afternoon. He obviously didn't expect anyone to respond to his observations. Frank found his mind drifting, returning to the conversation with a jerk when Reverend Cooper asked him a pointed question about his family.

"Two sisters, sir, one older, one younger." Frank sipped from his glass, waiting for the next comment.

"Sisters. I have a younger sister and four younger brothers."

Reverend Cooper shook his head with a reminiscent smile. "She never let us intimidate her, though. Like my Marian here." He touched a loose curl on Marian's shoulder, his expression fil ed with pride.

Frank held back a shudder. This man loved his daughter but more than that, she was a prized possession, if that proprietary look was anything to judge by. The reverend might welcome a passing traveler into his home for a meal, even offer to find him work. Al of that would be in keeping with his spiritual cal ing. But he would not easily give away his only daughter to that same man.

Frank suddenly felt hot and surreptitiously mopped at his forehead. He was relieved when the meal was over, so he could escape to the room under the eaves.

After bidding everyone good-night, he climbed the stairs, shutting the guest-room door with a thankful sigh. It was simply decorated, with the barest of necessities, dominated by a large bed in the middle. He turned back the heavy blanket and sighed happily. Clean sheets! He didn't often have a bed at night. Now and then, he slid between the sheets of a bed with a housewife or a maid left alone in the house but seldom at night and never for very long.

He pushed such images away. Marian was in the room next to him. He could hear her moving around, making her own preparations for sleep. The vision of her smooth skin, naked beneath his hands, made him groan and he stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed, pul ing the pil ow over his head and ignoring the sounds from the room beside his.

He met Reverend Cooper on the stairs the next morning. "Sleep wel , my boy?"

"Yes, thank you." Frank had final y settled into a dreamless sleep, waking only once at the howling of coyotes nearby.

"We'll have breakfast and then I'll take you to see Adam Bates."

The reverend was as good as his word. Adam, the middle-aged, rough-hewn owner of the feed store, studied Frank for a few moments. "If Reverend Cooper vouches for you, you're fine by me," he said, extending his hand. "You can start tomorrow."

"I could start this afternoon," Frank said. He needed hard work, something to keep his mind and his hands busy—to distract him from the minister's daughter.

Adam Bates leaned against the counter and nodded. "Fine, after lunch then."

Widow Bartlett had a room available in her narrow house. She was a tal , slender woman with a weary smile and even wearier eyes. Frank smiled politely when she showed him the common living quarters and he accepted her terms. With the money he made from the feed store, he'd have enough to begin saving.

For what? he asked himself as he carried his bag to his new home. He had thanked the family for their hospitality and promised to be a visitor one day soon. Marian had stood behind her mother, eyes aglow. He'd needed every ounce of control to keep from staring at her.

In his new room, he unpacked his meager belongings, his mind stil on his change of plans. He'd never considered his future before. He enjoyed the different towns he visited and the freedom he had to leave them.

He sank down on his new bed. The bedsprings squeaked. The mattress wasn't as soft as the one in the Coopers' guest room, but it was his room. He hadn't been in his own place since his departure from his parents' house five years earlier.

The work wasn't hard. Adam Bates kept him until only a thin sliver of the sun was left in the sky. Jamming his hat on his head, Frank walked back to his new home, ready for a hot bath and a long sleep.

He ducked his head under the water and washed the dirt and grime off his body, whistling tunelessly as he did.

Marian said she loved him but what could she know of love, young as she was, stuck in this little town? No one could real y love someone after such a short time together. The idea was preposterous.

Maybe she was exercising her ability to charm men with nothing more than a smile. Was she practicing on him so she could entice some young man in the vil age who was her main objective?

Dressed in his slacks and a clean shirt, he went down to the kitchen, hoping his dinner would fil the suddenly painful hol ow in his stomach.

Chapter 3

He soon adjusted to the easy pace of the vil age. Every Sunday, he dressed careful y in his new suit and marched down the road to the white church. While his sole interest in attending lay with the minister's daughter, he found himself paying more attention to her father's sermons every week.

After the service, Marian and her father greeted the congregation while her mother disappeared, presumably to fix the noonday meal. Frank didn't receive another invitation to the house but he didn't mind. He often ate his Sunday meal with his boss and family; it was easier to relax under the roof of the boisterous Bates family.

He'd just started his second week in the vil age when Marian came into the store with her father. "How are things going?" Reverend Cooper asked.

"Fine, sir." Frank didn't glance toward Marian, afraid that his emotions would show in his eyes. His heart pounded under the canvas apron he wore and he swal owed to relieve the pressure in his throat.

Satisfied that his good deed was stil producing positive results, Reverend Cooper sat down on a stool near the front of the store. Mr. Bates took a stool opposite him and soon they were engaged in a lively discussion of politics, the weather and the state of the country.

Dismissed, Frank returned to his work, stacking bags of grain near the back wall. He almost dropped one when he heard Marian's soft voice behind him. "I've missed you."

He swung around, the bag clutched in his hands. "Marian, what are you doing?"

He peered quickly around. Tal sacks of grain separated them from the two men, and he could hear their animated conversation, but it was only a matter of time before her father started looking for her.

"I miss you, Frank."

Her forlorn voice pul ed at him. Setting the bag down between them, he framed her face with his hands and tilted it up until he could see her eyes. "I've missed you, too," he whispered. "But we can't meet here."

"Then where? You never come to the house and I can't go to the widow Bardett's by myself." She sniffed loudly, then let her breath out in a long sigh.

When he chuckled, her eyes flashed. "You think it's funny that we can't meet?"

He bent down and kissed her on the lips. "No, I think your playacting is funny." At the mutinous look in her eyes, he kissed her again, a hard kiss that left them both breathless.

"Frank, what are we going to do?"

When her shining face tipped toward his, he knew he was lost. He wouldn't cal it love but he couldn't imagine living without her.

"I don't know yet, but I'll come up with something, Marian. "At the scraping sound that signaled the stools were being pushed aside, he nudged her toward the front of the store. "Until then, trust me."

The tremulous look she gave him was ful of trust. No one had ever regarded him that way before. His chest swelling with pride, he flung a bag to the top of the pile, her tempting smile urging him on.

That night, he wrote to his mother and told her about his new job and the vil age. He made only a passing mention of the Coopers, including them in a list of families who'd invited him into their homes. The letter sealed, he lay back on his bed. For the first time since he'd gone on the road, he felt a burning desire to return home, to try again with his father, to see his mother and ask her about his feelings for Marian.

The next Sunday, he saw Marian at the church. When Frank would've walked down the steps, she laid a gloved hand on his arm. He paused, his eyes going from her somber face to that of her father. Reverend Cooper didn't hesitate to offer him an invitation to dinner.

"I appreciate it, sir, but 1 couldn't impose—"

"Nonsense," Reverend Cooper interrupted with a wave of his hand. "We've been remiss in our duty to you, young man. Only the other day, Mrs. Cooper asked how you were getting on. Come to dinner and set her mind at rest."

"If you insist..."

He didn't look at Marian during the short walk to the house. Once inside the parlor, he sat across from Reverend Cooper and answered his questions about work. "This is a fine town," he assured the older man. "I feel as if I'm already part of the community."

Reverend Cooper beamed. "Wonderful place, Winston. When I left the seminary, I realized immediately that this was where I wanted to raise my family." He reached over and touched Marian's hands. "My family is second only to God, Frank. I hope you feel the same way."

Startled, Frank wondered if the reverend referred to his feelings for Marian. After a moment's reflection, he decided the older man was questioning Frank's relationship with his own family.

"I've written my mother about my situation here," he mumbled, glad that in this, at least, he could tel the plain truth.

"Good, good." Reverend Cooper released Marian's hand as Mrs. Cooper announced the meal.

When dinner was over, Frank excused himself, ignoring the frustrated look Marian sent his way. He couldn't sit in the parlor again, not with her father watching him. Even though he was sure the earlier comments were just ordinary conversation, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that a warning had been implied.

The next Friday, Adam invited him home for dinner. The entire family greeted him, and he recognized several friends of the Bates children already sitting at the table. After a fil ing meal, he joined the large brood around the piano, letting his tenor mingle with the bright voices of the Bates family. They sang round after round of song. When they broke into "Button Up Your Overcoat," the group roared as Mrs. Bates tugged at his top button before kissing his cheek and sending him home for the night.