Contract to Wed (14 page)

“I cannot believe I told you,” she said.

Maximillian stood and pulled her into his arms. “It’s out.
It’s over. It can’t hurt you anymore and there’s no reason to let it fester.
For your own sake, try to let it go a little more each day. I want you to be
happy.”

“It feels very recent having said it out loud,” she said.

Maximillian held her away from him and looked her in the
eyes. “That’s one hell of a horrible thing your mother did, Jolene. To you, to
your sister, and to your niece. She intentionally put you at odds with them.”
He held her face in his hands. “But it’s out now. All out. If you want to try
and be happy here, this is your chance. It’s no wonder you’re hesitant to be
attached to anyone. What do you say we call this day the beginning for us with
no more secrets?”

“Why do you continue trying, Maximillian? I have not been
easy, or open with you, yet you continue to try and forge a relationship with
me.”

“We already have a relationship, Jolene. You’re my wife.”

“No, Maximillian. Even from my first day here when I was terrified
of what I’d done and what I’d left and reacted by being short and cold to
everyone, you continued to smile at me and try and make me comfortable. You
have been the soul of kindness . . . and I have been not been. I would have no
idea
how
to be. ”

“Pain and loss and heartache don’t vanish in a day or a
month, or even years. Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in the hurt and let
it rule your life. But I’m thinking each time you were able to get yourself
righted, something else happened to set you back. It can be different now for
you,” he said. “No more secrets or set-backs. Forget the past. We’re just going
to live our lives and do the best we can do.”

Jolene gazed up at him. But how could she forget Little
William? How could she ever move on from that pain and loss? There was no
righting
herself from that, and there was no way she could get to the bottom of that
grief and forget about it. As if she could ever forget about her son. Nor would
she ever share that with Maximillian. Her husband had an uncanny way of mining
her deepest secrets, but that was one she never, ever planned on sharing.
Because to remember and share those horrible days, to relive the fear and
anguish and the helplessness would be more than she could possibly bear.  A
child’s death was not something that could ever be lightened from a mother’s
heart and certainly not by revealing the abject pain and misery of the event.
She would continue to bury that grief in the deepest recesses of her being. But
there was some happiness within her grasp, and she thought perhaps she should
take it. She was here, after all, for good.

* * *

Jolene greeted each of her guests at
the door and showed them to a rarely used formal parlor near the back of the
house. The scene through the long windows was of the low hills to the west of
the Hacienda and was picturesque.

Cornelia Gregory fussed over the oil painting above the
massive fire place. “This room is lovely, Jolene! And this printed furniture is
so bright and beautiful!”

“Thank you,” Jolene said. “I’ve done some redecorating in
this room as of late. The couches and settees are not new, however. They’d
never been sat on from what I came to understand from the staff, and I just had
them re-upholstered. Mrs. Pierce was recommended to me by Mrs. McCabe, and I am
quite pleased with her work.”

“I never did know what Max ordered for this room when I
helped him decorate some of the other rooms here. These are beautiful!” Emma
Jean said.

Tea and light refreshments were served while the women
chatted. Felicity Kenney gave a report on the orphanage and some new children
who had come to them. They laughed when she shared that her husband, the
minister, had been washing laundry to help the over-worked staff there and managed
to burn holes with the bluing in six new sets of sheets.

“I couldn’t imagine why he thought he’d be able to help.
He’s never done a day of house work in his life,” Felicity said with a laugh.

Jolene was refreshing tea cups when she saw Melinda in the
doorway. “Come in, Melinda,” she said. “I don’t know how many of you have ever
met Maximillian’s daughter.”

Melinda approached cautiously and looked around the room.
She looked very pretty in her yellow dress with a square white collar and
cuffs, with kid half-boots, and her hair plaited in two neat braids. The women
were all nodding at her with approval, and she dropped a slight curtsy before
sitting down beside Jolene. She was clearly nervous, and Jolene picked up her
hand.

“What a lovely young girl,” Martha Newmeyer said. “How old
are you, dear?”

“Twelve, ma’am. I’ll be thirteen in a month.”

“Well, you’re a lovely young lady with pretty manners,”
Cornelia Gregory said and glanced at Jolene. “And lucky to have a step-momma
here to guide you.”

“She sure is,” Maximillian said from the doorway. “I’m lucky
to have her, too. How is everyone today?”

The women, of course, were charmed, and Melinda stood and
held Maximillian’s hand as he moved around the room greeting the women, and
introducing himself, or making small talk with the ones he knew. He did not
pause long at Anna Cummingsworth’s chair and maneuvered Melinda to stand in
front of him while he spoke to her. Jolene liked watching him chat with her
lady friends. He was clearly enjoying the attention and the women were laughing
and tittering a bit. The effects of a handsome man, no doubt, Jolene thought.

“What do you think of suffrage, Mr. Shelby?” Bella asked.

“Now don’t put him on the spot,” Elsie added. “But I am
curious.”

Maximillian sat down on the arm of the chair Jolene was
sitting in. “My wife asked me what I thought about women voting the very first time
she met you ladies. It made me think about why women aren’t allowed to vote,
and for the life of me I couldn’t think of one reason that held water.” He
looked at Jolene and put his hand on her shoulder. “My wife is every bit as
smart as any man I’ve met, if not more, and she manages this household and the
twenty-five or so staff members necessary to make it run smoothly, and she
makes it look easy. I know it isn’t easy. Since coming here she has taken up
Melinda’s education, and from what I’ve recently heard, she’s working with our
head housekeeper on reading and writing classes for our employees’ children.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Of course, she should have say in how our
government works. She’s a citizen and well able to make good decisions.”

“Well-said,” Bella said. “I’ll pass that on to my husband.
He’s a great supporter of the Cause and we’ll be glad to hear what you think.”

“And so sweet of your husband to say,” Cordelia said and
leaned over to pat Jolene’s knee. “Just enchanting.”

“Thank you, Maximillian,” Jolene said and could feel heat in
her cheeks.

Maximillian stood. “I will let you ladies alone. Enjoy yourselves.
Melinda? Are you staying with the ladies, or are you coming with me?”

Chapter Fourteen

Jolene wasn’t joyous but she was
feeling content as of late. There seemed to be no machinations at play at the
Hacienda, other than small disagreements among some of the staff, which Maria
was adept at handling. It had taken nearly six months to have some confidence
that her life was settling into a routine without constantly wondering who was
plotting against her or trying to manipulate her. She was less on her guard
than she’d been for as long as she could remember. Bringing her to the
question, or rather the ache, that signaled she was craving her husband. Jolene
was having a difficult time justifying why she was not sleeping with
Maximillian more than just the one memorable occasion on the night of the
Cattlemen’s Ball.

Jolene knocked on his office door. He looked up and stood.

“Come in,” he said and signaled a chair for her to sit in.
“Would you like tea or coffee? I just ordered some.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said and sat. Maximillian was not
himself, she could see. There were worry lines on his forehead and dark circles
under his eyes. She watched him look down at the papers on his desk, tap his
pencil against his adding machine, and finally looked up when a young woman
brought in a coffee tray. Jolene poured his and added a dollop of cream.

“Thank you,” he said and took a sip. “What can I do for you,
Jolene?”

“What is troubling you, Maximillian?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just sorting through some
things that Timothy sent me.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Not really.”

Jolene waited and hoped Maximillian would confide in her.
She had been surprised, shocked really, at how less tense she felt after
talking to him on two notable occasions. It had been terribly painful to reveal
that her husband had been so faithless, that he’d slept with her sister. And that
knowledge had hardened her, she knew, and had left her unwilling to be open to
another person, in any area of her life, but especially in her intimate life.

While she had taken pleasure in Turner’s body when it suited
her, she found it easy to imagine him as a nameless, faceless stranger, even
when they were both naked and panting from a robust round of sex. He’d tried
for some years to talk to her while they coupled, to tell her he loved her, and
whisper worshipping words in her ear. He would look at her solemnly and attempt
to convey some emotion to her. It was simple from many years of practice
dodging her mother’s cruel words by acting as if they meant nothing, to treat
Turner’s attempts at intimacy with cold disdain. And if she was feeling maudlin
and emotional, and felt herself giving in to his onslaught, she had one vision
to fall back on. That of her husband and her sixteen-year-old sister in the
throes of passion.

Jolene wondered what she would say, how she would feel, or
react, if Maximillian whispered in her ear now and held her with tenderness and
love. Some walls had lately crumbled around her heart. Walls that had guarded
her from more hurt and pain . . . but the persons who brought her the most
pain, and with whom she needed to be wary, were no longer in her life.

She stood, with some trepidation for what she was going to
do. It felt unnatural to offer some comfort, little that she had to give, to a
man such as Maximillian. But she walked around the desk and placed a hand on
his back, one on his arm, and reached down and kissed his cheek. “There is
something troubling you, Maximillian. What is it? Perhaps I can help?”

Maximillian looked up at her over his shoulder, patted her
hand, and then held it. He searched her eyes and was fully focused on her, as
opposed to the far-away look he’d given her a minute ago. “I don’t like to
trouble you, Jolene.”

“As I have troubled you when I cried on your shirt while you
held me?”

“It was never a trouble to hold you. Never a trouble at
all.”

“Then allow me the same opportunities. Tell me your
problems.” Jolene poured herself coffee and sat down.

“There’s a man from the Houston area who is going to whoop
my ass in this election,” Maximillian said.

“Why do you say that?”

“We’ve got people working in that area, polling the men
there, formally and informally, and reading the local newspapers to see who
gets endorsed.”

“What is his advantage?” she asked.

“His father was an Alamo hero in ‘36 and helped bring
statehood to Texas ten years later. Everyone knows his name and family and he’s
a successful business man.”

“Then you must go to Houston.”

* * *

“I went last fall not long before
you and I corresponded. I spoke to all the right people and met with editors
and business leaders. The population there and in the surrounding area is
larger than Dallas, and I think the numbers will be overwhelming.”

Max had been caught up in Timothy McCastor’s vision and his
own ego, he thought with some regret, for getting involved in this election.
He’d always been interested in serving, and when he mentioned that to Timothy
one night over brandy, his friend had started asking questions of state leaders
and politicians, and was convinced Max had a good chance to win. That was
before Phillip Sutherland entered the race as a Democrat. Max didn’t like to
lose, and he didn’t like disappointing people who’d put their hard-earned money
towards his election.

“You must go to Houston again, Maximillian.”

“I don’t know if that will help, Jolene,” he said.
“Sutherland’s got steam opposing the Lodge Bill that allows Federal agents to
monitor elections. The Democrats want to keep the Negroes from voting, and he’s
got a lot of support for it.”

“Then you must go to Houston and tell them why you are right
and Mr. Sutherland is wrong.”

Max shook his head. “It’s not that easy.”

“You are forgetting one critical point, Maximillian. Your
strength of personality and character. You are not using it well right now.
These men that are convinced that a certain bill is in their best interest and
will vote for the candidate talking about it now, have not met you. You must
meet them. Your greatest strength is not something as trivial as an opinion
about a certain thing, it is your ability to inspire trust in those you meet.
You must go meet the voters and shake their hands.”

Maximillian listened intently to Jolene. Whether she
followed politics or issues or not, mattered little to her natural instincts.
No wonder her father had her charming customers and closing deals. She was most
likely right. He would never win the Senate seat unless people got to know him
and trusted him to do the right thing.

“So I just pick up and take the train to Houston?”

“Have Timothy gather some of your supporters together and
see who has contacts in the Houston area. Perhaps someone knows the mayor or
one of the bankers or the head of a business. He must arrange for parties and
soirees and meetings with newspaper editors and others whose opinion is well-respected,
perhaps at one of the Houston colleges.”

Max was warming to this idea. “I might be gone a whole
month.”

“Of course, you will be. Mr. Moran is well capable of
running the day-to-day operations of the ranch. I will manage the house and
Melinda until I join you there for the last week of your visit. Maybe you’ll
have gained enough supporters to have a ball.”

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” he said.

“I’ve had my man of business from Boston, Mr. Dentraub, look
into houses in Washington, D.C., Maximillian. You will need a home there, and I
will need place to entertain when you win this election and I join you,” she
said.

Max chuckled. “It all sounds easy when you say it to me.”

“It won’t be easy, as I’m sure you know. But your chances
increase considerably with every voter you engage with.”

Max stood up and perched on the edge of the desk in front of
Jolene. “You didn’t come in here to get my campaign back in order, if only in
my head, did you?”

“No. I didn’t. I understand that you are building more bunk
houses for ranch hands and some suited for families. I’d like you to build a
room to be used strictly for a classroom. Maria has also told me that a
daughter of one of the married couples here, Ferdinand and Alcinda, has
recently graduated with a teaching certificate. I’d like us to hire her to
teach the children here.”

“I’d heard one of the older girls who can read has been
teaching the younger ones at Maria and Pete’s, with your encouragement.”

“That is true, but she does not understand mathematics. One
of the requirements of employment at Landonmore was at least an eighth grade
education. What is the point of hiring someone who cannot read or follow a
recipe or understand measurements for fabric or the price of coal? I am not a
sentimental populist, but rather pragmatic. Of course, many servants do not
require skills such as reading and arithmetic, but certainly some of them do
and the closest school is in Dallas proper.”

“You’re right, of course. It just never occurred to me,” he
said and smiled. “And I think you’re an old softie.”

Jolene stood, bringing her within inches of him. She was not
smiling. He’d only seen her smile one memorable time since their marriage,
other than the times they were entertaining and she put on her
hostess
mask, but she did not seem unhappy as of late. In fact, they’d been in harmony.
He picked up her hands from her sides. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for
listening and taking care of all the things that you do, that I don’t even know
about.”

Jolene licked her lips and stared into his eyes. “The door
between our rooms will be unlocked this evening, Maximillian.”

“Will it, now?” he said and pulled her between his legs. He
grinned. “This is interesting. Got any more of those slinky nightgowns from
Mrs. McCabe?”

Jolene stepped out of his hold and walked to the door. She
turned back and looked at him. “What a silly question, Maximillian. I have
negligees in every color.”

It took all of Maximillian’s formidable discipline to not
chase his wife until they came upon a bed, where he could strip her clothes and
bury himself inside her. He’d been dreaming and reliving their one encounter
since the night of the Cattlemen’s Ball.

* * *

Jolene’s body nearly hummed with
anticipation. She and Maximillian had been polite at dinner, but there was a
sensual undercurrent she felt, and was certain he felt it, too, coming from
some seemingly innocent double entendres and heated looks. She took a long bath
in scented water and had Alice brush her hair and wrap it in a loose coil on
top of her head. She chose a black negligee that went to the floor, with lace
insets over her breasts that narrowed into strips and stretched the length of
the gown and around the hem. The neckline was a deep v and the straps thin
ribbons of satin that crossed and ended at the small of her back. The robe
matched with pleated ruffles of lace around the color and cuffs. She wore satin
heeled slippers with open toes. She heard a knock on the door that led to
Maximillian’s rooms.

“Come in,” she said.

Maximillian opened the door and walked directly to her. He
was wearing his dungarees, his feet and chest were bare, and had a bottle of
brandy and two glasses in one hand. He looked her up and down and tilted her
chin up with his free hand.

“You are gorgeous, Mrs. Shelby.” He poured her a glass of
brandy and handed it to her.

Jolene sipped her drink. “Have you spoken to Timothy about
going to Houston?”

“Yes, and after thinking about it for a few minutes, he started
sending messages to our committee members that there would be a meeting this
week about a month-long campaign visit in Houston.”

“Good,” she said. “I think this is a wise decision.”

Maximillian rubbed the back of his neck and sat down on the
edge of her bed. “It is a good decision, Jolene,” he said and looked up at her.
“One I’d have never made without you telling me to. Timothy said I’ll need to
write some new speeches and gave me a list of issues that may come up during
our visit so I’d have time to think about them.”

Jolene sat her drink on the end table, shrugged off her
robe, and sat down beside him. She guided his shoulders until he was turned with
his back to her. She rubbed his neck, and he groaned and dropped his head
forward.

“You’re so tense, Maximillian,” she said. “Relax now.”

Jolene moved her hands down to Maximillian’s broad shoulders
and worked her fingers along the muscles of his back. His skin was warm and
smooth, and he smelled like the minty soap that Maria made for the kitchens.
She traced a line down the muscle in the back of his arm and kneaded the skin
around his spine. He sighed in contentment.

“That’s better, Maximillian,” she said as she leaned forward
and reached her hands around his waist touching the ridged planes of his
stomach as she did. Jolene opened the buttons of his pants, and the tips of her
breasts touched his back. He hissed and was already rigid and straining in her
hand, and Jolene stroked him with feather touches and finally a firm grasp.

“Feeling better?” she whispered.

“Feeling like I’m going to embarrass myself soon unless I
get my hands on you pretty quick.”

Maximillian stood and pulled his pants off as Jolene watched
him.  He stepped close to her, and she took a slow look at him from his
powerful legs, to his flat stomach and broad chest. She looked at his face, with
the shadow of a day’s worth of beard darkening his cheeks and chin.
Maximillian’s eyes were hooded, and his nostrils flared as their eyes met.
Jolene recognized his heated look for what it was and licked her upper lip. She
looked down at his erection and groaned.

Before Jolene new what he was about, she found herself flat
on her back in the middle of the bed, Maximillian, stretched out over her. He
kissed her neck and shoulder, found her mouth and covered it with his own. He
rubbed her breast through the lace and pulled the fabric back to lick and suck
her. Jolene heard herself moan, and her hips bucked against his as she wrapped
her arms around his neck.