The Longing (8 page)

Unable to look at his brothers, Kyle fixed
his gaze outside the window. If Amelia had given Kyle the mill free
of charge, he still doubted his ability to turn it around.

“How deep are we in?” Duke asked, leaning
against the knotty-pine wall slats, casually folding his arms over
his chest as though unconcerned over the potential downfall of
their business.

Kyle stood up, needing to be at eye level
with his brothers when he told them he’d just tied their mill to a
sinking stone in an ocean of debt. “I invested everything in our
account.”

Boyd’s expression flattened and he stared at
Kyle. “What do you mean everything?” His jaw muscles flexed. “Be
specific.”

“I used all of our money, Boyd. Every
cent.”

“You’d better mean less my twenty-five
percent because I told you I want out.”

Getting pressured by Boyd while he was trying
to think his way through the catastrophe snapped Kyle’s patience.
“Well, I’m sorry, but you’re in this with the rest of us.”

Boyd flung his arm out to encompass Duke and
Radford. “The four of us own the mill. Who gave you the right to
make decisions for us?”

White-hot anger surged through Kyle and his
fists clenched around Tom’s register. “You gave me permission! Each
time you left the burden of making a decision on my shoulders. A
burden I didn’t want that I’ve carried alone for five goddamned
years. Every time we had a problem, you and Duke left me to handle
it. As for Radford,” Kyle said, glancing at his older brother, “he
was too busy with his own burdens to worry about ours.”

“I worried,” Radford said, though his voice
held no malice.

Kyle tossed the register on the desk,
regretting his outburst. For years Radford had been tormented by
his nightmares of the war. His inability to control his violent
outbursts not only shamed him but nearly destroyed their family.
Radford had been to hell and back trying to work through his
trauma, and Kyle was glad to see his brother learning to escape his
memories and be happy again. “That wasn’t meant as an insult,
Radford.”

“You two have already covered this ground,”
Boyd said, forcing their attention back to the problem at hand.
“Give me my cut of the mill and you’re free to do whatever you want
with this calamity.”

“I’m not mortgaging our mill to finance a
stench-filled tavern so you can drink yourself into oblivion each
night.”

“Well, I’m not going to be imprisoned by your
ambition, Kyle!”

“Then act like a man and use your head for
once. You have as much responsibility to our mill as the rest of
us. It’s time you realize that and stop drowning your brain in ale
every night. You’re turning into a damned drunk.”

Boyd dove forward, his fist arcing toward
Kyle’s face, but Duke and Radford snagged his arms and hauled him
back.

He tried to yank his arms free, but they kept
him reined. “Kyle had no right to do this. He knew I wanted out.
The bastard tied up our money on purpose.”

Guilt wiggled its way through Kyle’s mind.
Boyd spoke the truth, but Kyle refused to let his brother drink
away the tiny inheritance he’d patiently nursed into a respectable
amount of money.

“I made an investment I thought to be sound,”
Kyle said, hoping he could batter his point through Boyd’s anger.
“If you’ll settle down and give me some time to think, I might find
a way to make this work.”

“Why waste the time? Just tell Amelia the
deal’s off.”

Kyle looked at Radford and Duke and knew they
agreed with Boyd. It would be the easiest way to solve their
problem. And if she’d duped him, turnabout was fair play. Still,
the thought of dumping the burden back in Amelia’s lap only fed
Kyle’s guilt. Whether she’d intentionally misled him about the debt
or not, he’d promised to take care of her and Victoria. Since they
would never accept his charity, buying Tom’s lumberyard was the
only way to fulfill his commitment to Tom. Still, he had his
brothers’ welfare to think about.

Boyd jerked against his brothers’ hands. “Let
go.”

“All right, but quit acting like an ass.”

“An ass?” Boyd pulled free and glared at
Duke. “Am I an ass because I want to make my own choices and live
my own life instead of walking in the shadows of you three? I’m
tired of being known as the sheriff’s brother, or the brother of
the most respected businessman in town, or worse yet, the brother
of a goddamn war hero,” he said, flinging his hand out toward
Radford, whose expression registered surprise then insult. “If all
I can amount to is a drunk, then I’m going to own the tavern and be
the best drunk in town.”

Duke lifted a brow. “It’s been a long time
since I’ve thrashed you. If you embarrass Mom with your carousing
and drinking, I’ll make it a priority to do so.”

A fire flared in Boyd’s eyes as he sized up
Duke’s thick arms, then he tossed his head back with a laugh,
acting like his usual mischievous self. “That would be one hell of
a row, now wouldn’t it?”

“It’d be a dumb move on your part, but go
ahead if you like.”

“For Christ’s sake!” Kyle slammed his fist on
the desk. “Use your fat heads for something more than punching
bags, will you? We’ve got a problem to solve.”

“We?” Boyd turned to Kyle, the cocky smirk
still on his face. “You made the problem. You solve it.” He pulled
open the door then turned back. “One month, Kyle. I want my money
in four weeks. Not a day more.”

Kyle clenched his teeth as the door slammed
behind Boyd. “What do you two want to do?” he asked, knowing he
would respect their decision regardless of its effect on Amelia or
his own conscience.

Radford shrugged. “Common sense tells me to
side with Boyd.”

Duke pushed away from the wall. “I agree, but
you’ve always done a good job of managing our business. I’ll trust
your judgment, Kyle.”

Kyle had no idea what he would do, but he
knew one thing for certain. He was going to visit Amelia Drake and
find out what the hell she knew about her father’s debt.

The knock at
her private entrance startled Amelia. The board members always
entered through the front door of the schoolhouse for their
meetings, and Amelia left her connecting door open so she would
hear them arrive. They had never breached her privacy by coming to
her personal entrance.

Maybe it was Eva coming to warn Amelia that
she was in for an hour of chastising because of the scene with
Richard at the bank. Amelia sighed and opened the door, just
wanting the meeting over with so she could figure out how to
support her mother without succumbing to Richard’s proposition.

To her shock, Kyle Grayson planted his hands
against the doorframe and angled his powerful body toward her. “We
have to talk,” he said, in his straightforward manner.

Amelia blinked, unable to believe he was
really standing in her doorway when he knew perfectly well his
presence at her apartment would be viewed as the ultimate sin.
Concerned for both of them, she peered over his shoulder to see if
Eva and Philmore Bentley were leaving their house yet. “You can’t
be seen here, Kyle.”

“I know. I’m sorry for putting you at risk,
but we have a problem to discuss. Did you know that your father’s
mill is nearly bankrupt?”

She honestly hadn’t until a few hours ago.
Believing Kyle had come to rescind his offer on the mill, Amelia
opened her mouth to beg him not to do it, but the rattle of
carriage wheels sounded in the street. Knowing Kyle could be seen
from the road, and that she would end up losing the only income she
had, Amelia grabbed his arm and tugged him inside. Despite his
surprise, she shut the door behind him, then tried to calm her
pounding heart.

He towered over her, standing so close that
she could see the dark flecks in his eyes. She could smell
fresh-cut wood and evening air emanating from his clothing along
with a hint of aftershave. His jaw was speckled with whiskers and
his thick hair swept off his forehead as though he’d repeatedly
shoved it back with his fingers. Even tired and work-worn, Kyle
Grayson was disgustingly attractive. Amelia yanked her gaze from
his face, appalled that she would notice something so trite during
such a catastrophic crisis. To her further dismay, her gaze riveted
on the hair peeking from his open collar. The queer thrill in her
stomach stoked her frustration as much as his news had.

“My brothers are ready to kill me for making
such a bad investment, Amelia.” His quiet statement spelled doom.
He stared directly into her eyes. “If one of them had done this, I
would kill them. I’m sorry, but in their interest, I have to cancel
our agreement. The mill is debt-ridden. It could drag my own
business into bankruptcy. I can’t ask my brothers to take that
risk.”

“But I already used your draft to pay off the
mortgage on Mama’s house.”

“Your father mortgaged the house, too? Ah,
Christ.” Kyle pinched the bridge of his perfect, proud nose and
shook his head. “There isn’t a hope in hell of saving the mill.” He
sighed and looked away, his gaze perusing the stark little box she
lived in before returning to her. “Jeb doesn’t know what’s going
on, either. Do you think your father might have talked to your
mother about his debt?”

Amelia shook her head and braced herself
against the solid bulk of the table. Her father would have never
worried her mother with his financial troubles. She wouldn’t,
either. Her mother was suffering enough heartache and worry without
knowing the precarious state of their security.

“Do you have any relatives who can help you?”
Kyle asked, oblivious to the panic drowning her.

“No.”

“There isn’t anyone anywhere that you and
your mother can depend on?”

“My mother has a widowed sister in Georgia,
who’s as poor as a church mouse. She’s our only living relative
that I’m aware of.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” She nodded and
his gaze darted through the room as if searching for something to
punch his fist through. “What the hell was your father
thinking?”

“If you don’t know the circumstances, don’t
blame Papa for this.”

Kyle stared in disbelief. “Who do you think
is responsible for this mess?”

She shrugged. “There could be a million
reasons for Papa’s financial problems. It may not be his fault at
all.”

“It most certainly is his fault! His bad
decisions drove his mill into debt, and it could damn well drag
mine with it.” Kyle grabbed her wrist and tugged her away from the
table. “If you need proof of that we can take a trip to his mill
right now and I’ll show you the mess he has made.”

The absurdity of her situation washed over
her and Amelia’s emotions spiraled out of control. It would be so
easy to sink to the floor in a laughing, weeping ball of idiocy,
but something stronger burned inside her and shoved aside
self-pity. She’d had enough. She refused to be a victim any
longer.

Every man in her life had manipulated her or
let her down. From the moment of her birth, she’d lived her life
under someone else’s rules. She’d adored her father and appreciated
his support, but she’d lived by his standards, not her own. After
her affair with Richard she traded her freedom for a minuscule
monthly stipend and a pristine reputation as a teacher. Now,
because of a mistake in her past, one man’s arrogance, and another
man’s bad decisions, her reputation and security were on the verge
of destruction.

Amelia jerked her arm, but Kyle kept her
wrist captive. “Leave my apartment!” she demanded, refusing to be
pushed or manhandled ever again. When Kyle still didn’t release her
wrist, Amelia swung her foot straight into his shin.

Air whistled in between his clenched teeth
and a sickly expression washed over his face as he swayed on his
feet, but it was the low groan of pain and his hand clutching for
the bedpost that made Amelia realize what she'd done.

“Your leg! Oh, my God. Kyle, I'm sorry.”

His entire body trembled and perspiration
covered his face as she guided him onto her bed, but he didn’t say
a word. He clenched his fists in his lap until his knuckles turned
white. His chest heaved and he squeezed his eyes shut, but the
suspicious sparkle of moisture on his dark lashes rent Amelia's
heart.

“Kyle,” she said softly, touching his taut,
damp cheek. “I'm so sorry. I forgot about your injury.” He didn't
respond and Amelia wasn't sure if it was because he was so angry or
because he was in too much pain to do so.

She grabbed a freshly laundered towel off her
linen stand and soaked it in the bucket of water she’d just drawn
from the well. When she turned toward the bed, Kyle was sitting
with his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes tightly
closed. “I'll need to lift your pants leg.”

He didn’t respond.

Amelia raised the lightweight denim as gently
as possible. When she saw Kyle’s shin covered with black tissue and
swollen to the point of deformity, she nearly wept with remorse for
her rash behavior. How stupid she’d been. Swallowing back her
nausea, she applied the cold, dripping cloth and apologized for the
discomfort when he flinched. Her eyes blurred with tears and she
cursed herself again for her inconsiderate act. It wasn’t his fault
her father was in debt, that her life was falling apart.

He let out a shaky breath. “Do you have
another wet cloth?”

His voice came out graveled and slow, and it
was apparent he was in no condition to lean over and hold the
compress to his leg. She glanced around the room, but there was
nothing to use to pin the cloth in place. Amelia plucked a pin from
her hair and slipped it over the area where the two ends of the
fabric crossed. With the reinforcement of four more hairpins the
rag stayed in place. She crossed to her linen stand, unmindful of
her hair trailing down her back.