Lauri Robinson (2 page)

Chapter Two

“What time will he be here?” Hannah asked for the tenth
time, standing in the kitchen archway, where she could stare at the front
door.

“I’m sure it’ll be shortly,” Ester answered, rewashing dishes
the child had washed so fast the plates had barely gotten wet. She didn’t mind.
It kept her busy while waiting. Though she fought it, her insides were as
excited as they used to be when waiting for Brett to come over.

“Do you think he’ll remember me?” the girl asked, smoothing
down the long black hair she’d brushed a few minutes ago.

“Yes, he’ll remember you,” Ester assured. Both children had
cleaned up for their brother’s visit and put on their Sunday best. She’d changed
as well, put on the dress she planned on wearing to Jesse’s graduation ceremony
next week. A blue chiffon with a pleated bodice and layered skirt she’d just
finished last night.

“I don’t know,” Jesse said, crossing the room to muss Hannah’s
hair with one hand. “You’re a mite homelier than you were five years ago.”

“Stop it,” Hannah squealed, ducking out of her brother’s
way.

Ester grinned, handing Jesse another plate to dry as he arrived
back at the counter. The two children were always teasing each other, and they
both looked enough like Brett that at times they took her breath away.
Especially Jesse when he got the gleam in his eye like he had right now. “Leave
your sister alone,” she said, halfheartedly.

“Is he taking us home to Montana?” Hannah asked. “Did he tell
you that when you saw him, Jess?”

A dish slipped right out of Ester’s hand and clattered upon the
floor.

“I’m sorry, Ester—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jess,” she interrupted. “It was mine. I
guess I have too much soap in the water.” She retrieved the plate. The heavy
stoneware hadn’t broken, amazingly, although the thought of all three of
them—Brett, Jesse and Hannah—leaving shattered something inside her.

“Is he?” Hannah asked.

“I suspect so,” Jesse answered.

Ester squeezed her hands into fists beneath the soapy water.
The fact the children seemed as besotted with Montana as Brett had always been
made something ball in her stomach. From the day his family had moved to
Cutter’s Corner he’d talked of returning to Montana. There’d been a time she’d
thought of going with him, but—

She stopped. The thought was too painful.

Brett’s uncle had stayed in Montana, and when the man died,
willing the place to Brett, he’d left. Packed up and rode off. Just like
that.

“I can’t wait to see it —” Hannah’s last word turned into a
squeal. “He’s here! He’s here!”

Ester would have dropped another plate if she’d been holding
one. As it was, nothing was damaged when she spun around to fly out of the
kitchen as fast as Hannah and Jesse were. She found an ounce of control and
paused at the front door, holding the screen with a hand still covered in
bubbles as Hannah leaped off the front porch into Brett’s open arms.

“Hey you,” he said, planting a noisy kiss on Hannah’s cheek
before he spun around with her in his arms. The girl’s legs flew through the air
while she held on to his neck as he made a complete circle. Both of them were
laughing up a storm.

Swallowing a very selfish wish—that it was her in his arms
instead of his sister—Ester stepped onto the porch to pick up the dish towel
Jesse had dropped in his wake, and used it to wipe her hands.

“Look at you. My baby sister is all but grown up,” Brett said,
setting Hannah back on her feet.

“Ester said you’d come,” Hannah said, “but when winter set in,
I started getting worried.”

Brett lifted his head and glanced toward the porch. Ester had
to press her toes down to keep put. “I couldn’t leave the cows in the dead of
winter,” he said, tugging Hannah to his side while still gazing toward the
house—at her. “But I’m here now.”

It was like pulling teeth, dragging her eyes off him, and then
she saw Jesse step in for a hug from his brother. The three of them stood there,
holding on to each other, and for the first time ever, Ester felt like an
intruder in Brett’s life. That had her throat balling up and her cheeks
quivering.

She turned, opened the screen door and made her way back to the
kitchen, where she finished the dishes in complete silence. They were grieving
the loss of their parents. She understood that, but she wanted to be with them,
sharing their pain. In her heart, the entire Richards family had been her
family, too. All the years growing up with Brett as her beau had left that
lasting mark on her.

The widow who died less than a year after Brett had left
appeared in Ester’s mind.

You’d be a fool to go with him,
Mrs. Wilson had told Ester all those years ago.
That boy
will get hisself killed out there. Just like my Lester did. Brought me out
here as a bride when Cutter’s Corner was nothing but a wide spot in the
road, and less than a year later, he died, not half a mile from our house,
lost in a blizzard. That’s what’ll happen to you, too. You’ll be out there
in Montana all by yourself. Having to take in sewing, like I did, just to
eat.

Ester pressed a hand to her forehead, willing the memory to
fade. She couldn’t go with him. Not then, and not now.

The kitchen was clean, the dishes were put away and the cup of
tea she’d made herself had gone cold when she heard the screen door open and
close. She remained seated at the table, watching the archway to see who had
entered.

Her heart thrashed about so much it was painful even before
Brett rounded the corner and stopped to lean against the wall. His shoulders
were broader beneath the tan shirt than they’d been five years ago, and his
waist leaner where the gun belt hung low on the hips covered with brown
pants.

“We need to talk, Ester.”

She gave a clipped nod. Anger had renewed itself—at how he’d
left her so easily, how he held such little regard for his own life—but the
desire he’d sparked inside her this afternoon with that one kiss was just as
strong and had built into an all-compassing need that had her ready to burst
like a canning jar boiled too long.

“Jess tells me he graduates next week.”

Brett had grown, or aged, in other ways, too, and the stern
tone he used increased the resentment inside her. “Yes, he does,” she replied
just as coldly.

“We’ll wait until after that before heading home. Back to
Montana. I’d be obliged if they could go on staying here. I could take another
room at the hotel, but seeing this has been their home…” He paused, glanced
around.

“It would be best for them to remain here,” she replied,
wishing she’d added
forever.

“I thank you for taking care of them these past months,” he
said. “I’ll pay you whatever the costs have been.”

“There have been no costs, Brett.” She stopped before telling
him Jesse and Hannah were family. Chin up, she breathed through her nose,
refusing to admit, even to herself, how he was once again shredding her
heart.

He straightened, rocked on his heels and slapped his hat
against his thigh. “We’re going to walk up to the hotel and have a piece of pie
or some ice cream. You’re welcome to join us.”

Though she wanted to leap out of her chair, Ester shook her
head. “No, they need some time getting to know you again, but they do have
school tomorrow, so please don’t be too late.”

“We won’t,” he answered, planting his hat on his head. Without
another word, he was gone.

Sitting there all alone, Ester wondered, yet again, what
Montana could possibly have that Iowa didn’t. This time, in a way, she knew the
answer.

Brett.

And that’s what had been missing in Cutter’s Corner the past
five years.

She made sure to be at the door when they returned, but Brett
stopped in the front yard and after kissing Hannah and ruffling Jesse’s hair, he
simply gave her a nod before starting back up the road.

“Time for bed,” she told the children, holding the door wide
and watching him walk away.

A short time later, while braiding Hannah’s hair as the girl
chatted about Montana, all Brett had told her and their visit to the hotel,
Ester’s spine was ice-cold, but all of a sudden threatened to snap in two. “What
did you say?”

Hannah twisted to look over her shoulder. Her big brown eyes,
so like her older brother’s, grew thoughtful for a moment. “That I had plum
syrup on my ice cream?”

“No, after that,” Ester said.

“Oh, that Lenore said she’d love to see Montana.” Hannah turned
back around for Ester to finish the braid.

Flipping the hair with utmost speed while her teeth clenched,
Ester asked, “Did she join you for pie and ice cream?”

Lenore Wicks had always had a crush on Brett, and practically
lived for the chance to rub Ester’s nose in the fact Brett had gone to Montana
without her.

“No, she waited on us. She has a job at the restaurant now, but
she doesn’t really like it. She had to go to work, though, on account her folks’
house burnt the same time ours did.”

“I see,” Ester said. “Jump into bed now. You have a test at
school tomorrow.”

“I know. Good Night.”

Ester paused as she bent down to blow out the lamp, her stomach
tying itself in knots. “Was Brett happy to see Lenore?”

Already snuggled beneath the covers, Hannah shrugged. “I dunno.
He said he didn’t remember her living next door to us.”

“That’s because she didn’t when he lived there.”

“That’s what she told him. Good night, Ester.”

“Good night,” Ester repeated, blowing out the lamp and leaving
the room. Jealousy—she knew that’s what it was since she’d felt it anytime Brett
spoke to another girl—was flaring hotter than it ever had before.

* * *

Unable to sleep, knowing Brett was staying in the same
hotel Lenore worked at, Ester was up long before the sun, and as soon as the
children left for school, she started up the road, set upon putting the other
woman in her place.

Half a block from the hotel, she spied her adversary walking
out of the dry goods store. “Lenore,” she said, quite sternly.

Dressed in a pale orange dress that Ester hated to admit was
very stylish and quite stunning, the woman spun around. “I thought you worked at
the hotel,” Ester said.

“I do,” Lenore said. “The evening shift.” She fluffed the sides
of her hair so the golden curls fell over her shoulders. “I’m assuming you know
Brett’s in town.”

“Of course I know he’s in town. I’m sure I was the
first
to know.”

Lenore let out a derisive laugh. “Really? He didn’t mention
that when he and I had our little
visit
last
night.”

Steam was about to shoot out of her ears. “You mean when you
served him and Jesse and Hannah pie and ice cream.”

A bit of Lenore’s haughtiness slipped from her face.

It was enough to give Ester a slight whiff of victory. “I
believe Brett and Jess each had apple pie and Hannah had ice cream, with plum
sauce.”

Lenore’s lips pursed, but then a gleam appeared in her green
eyes. “How do you know Brett and I didn’t see each other after that?”

Holding her ground for all she was worth, Ester replied,
“Because I know Brett.”

Another chortle sounded as the woman tipped her head back to
enhance her laugh. “Maybe five years ago you knew a boy, and perhaps now I know
the man.”

Ester took a step forward, believing with all she had the woman
was wrong. In her heart of hearts, Brett was hers, would forever be. “I’ve
always known the man, even before he appeared.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Lenore waggled a finger. “Poor little Ester. You’re
growing as mean and bitter as old Widow Wilson was. You need to remember, dear,
you gave up all your rights to Brett when you didn’t go to Montana with
him.”

Her heart was beating like she’d just run a mile, and there was
enough fire in her belly to bake pies. A dozen of them. Ester folded her arms
across her chest and leaned close to seethe, “And you’re still jealous. Wishing
he’d have asked you to go.”

Lenore’s nose was mere inches away as she responded, “I’m not
ashamed to admit I’d go to the moon and back if that man asked.”

“Don’t pack your bags,” Ester growled.

“And who’s gonna stop me?” Lenore sneered. “Some lonely
seamstress living in her lonely house on the edge of town?”

Chapter Three

Brett was just walking out of the hotel when a
screeching noise split the air. It sounded to him like two cats had had their
tails tied together and been flung over a clothesline. Not that he knew exactly
what that sounded like. He hadn’t been with Frank Hespers and his brother Owen
behind the schoolhouse when they’d done just that to Widow Wilson’s cats.

Spinning toward the sound, he took a double take at the skirts
and hair flying as two women rolled into the street. Clawing and screeching and
leaving strands of hair floating amongst the dust.

Blond hair. And there was a rabbit-fur pouch on the
boardwalk.

He ran.

Grabbing a waist, not really sure whose it was until the
familiar shape filled his palms, he lifted Ester high into the air, swinging her
out of the way as the other woman kicked pointed-toed boots. One jab caught the
side of his leg with enough force there’d be a bruise. A big one. Luckily
someone else grabbed her off the ground.

Focusing his attention on the woman in his arms, whose fists
were still flying, punching nothing but air, he asked, “Ester, what are you
doing?”

“Put me down, Brett. I’m not finished with that trollop.”

“I’d rather be a trollop than an old bitty,” the other woman
shouted.

“Lenore?” Brett gawked at the woman who’d served him and the
kids pie the night before at the hotel.

Ester squirmed harder in his arms. “Put me down, Brett. I’m
gonna show her—”

“No, you’re not,” he said, hooking her tighter with one arm to
plant her firmly against his side, her feet still kicking. Her aloofness
yesterday—which had kept him up most of the night—had been an act, and that
tickled him, probably more than it should.

“Don’t pack your bags,” she shouted at Lenore.

Still thrashing, the other woman, hair askew and one dress
sleeve torn, was confined by a red-bearded man who looked vaguely familiar. Then
again, half the town appeared somewhat familiar to Brett.

“I don’t have to worry about you packing your bags, do I?”
Lenore yelled. “You didn’t before and you won’t now.”

“You spiteful cow!”

“Ester, that’s enough,” Brett said, spinning around and heading
toward her house on the edge of town. There was only one thing that ever set her
off like this.

“Brett!”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Here.” The man held Lenore with one hand as he tossed the
rabbit-fur pouch. “It’s Ester’s.”

The voice he recognized. As Brett caught the bag with his free
hand, he said, “Frank Hespers, I was just thinking about you.”

“We’ll get together.” Frank paused to hoist Lenore, who looked
like she was trying to run but going nowhere, higher in his arms. “After things
calm down.”

“I’ll look you up,” Brett said, tucking the bag in his pocket
so he could use both hands to keep Ester under control until he got her
home.

Once there, in her house, he planted her firmly on the little
sofa. “What the hell was that all about?”

She tossed her head back, making her long, straight hair
flutter as it settled around her shoulders. “Oh, like you don’t know,” she spat,
blue eyes snapping. “You didn’t waste any time reacquainting yourself with
specific people, did you?”

“Lenore?”

“Yes, Lenore,” she snapped. The words came out so snootily he
had to laugh, and that reaction turned her cheeks red. “You think it’s
funny?”

“Yeah, I think it’s funny.” Lenore Wicks had been irritating
years ago, and last night, though he’d hardly recognized her, after one minute
he remembered exactly how annoying she was. However, the fact Ester was jealous
of the woman had him happier than a kid with a new slingshot.

“Brett Richards, I oughta…”

“What?” he challenged, while kneeling down in front of the
sofa, reading those beautiful blue eyes. “Kiss me?”

She was so quiet for a moment he wondered if she was breathing.
Then, her eyes narrowed, sending his heart beating faster than a stampede.

“Yes,” she piped back while her hands grasped his neck.

The kiss, her lips meeting his, was beyond anything imaginable.
After years of believing he may never see her again, and months on end where
he’d wondered if he should return to Iowa, to her, he couldn’t stop from pulling
her closer, and when her lips parted, giving him full access, he took it.

Remembering her kisses was nothing like experiencing them, and
he couldn’t stop—he just snatched a bit of air whenever possible. They’d kissed
a lot over their years of courting, and they’d explored each other’s bodies a
bit, but had never broken any rules, not like he wanted to do right now.

His hands roamed up, found her breasts. They were like heaven,
round and plump and firm. The nipples pebbled beneath his touch and a thrill
shot through him. The two of them were no longer kids, but a man and woman with
unmistakable needs that were blazing hot right now.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, kissing her neck all
the way to the neckline of her dress.

“Me, too, Brett,” she answered, with a velvety moan. “Me,
too.”

He went lower then, kissing the fabric covering her breasts,
and when he opened his mouth, he settled it around her nipple, material and all.
Her fingers, combing through his hair, tightened and held him there. He didn’t
mind in the least, and moved only enough to explore the other breast, nibble on
the tip beneath the cloth.

One of his hands found its way under the layers of her skirt,
shimmied up her leg and felt the heat of her skin beneath the thin layer of her
pantaloons. His palm flattened near the top of her leg while his thumb twirled
the innermost region of her thigh.

“Brett,” she whispered, sounding breathless.

“Hmmm,” he mumbled, since his mouth was still busy. They’d
always stopped long before now, all those years ago, and he knew they should
again, but the need, the want pulsing through his body, had never been this
strong before.

“We…we…could go upstairs.” She was gasping and arching her
back.

It was tempting, so very, very tempting, yet, at the same time,
brought a bit of sensibility back to Brett. He kissed his way back up to her
lips, and took her mouth again for a very long, long time. Throbbing and aching,
he finally lifted his head.

Her eyes were smoldering, her lips swollen and her cheeks
flushed, and she’d never looked more beautiful. “Yes, Ester,” he said, though
breathing was a challenge. “But if we went up those stairs, how would you feel
about it next week when the kids and I leave for Montana?”

She went as stiff as a fence post. The only things moving were
her breasts and the wet material covering them as she tried to catch her
breath.

“I’m leaving again, Ester.” He had to tell her that, make her
understand, though it was almost gutting him. “I’m going back to Montana, and
not even spending time in your bed will change that.”

Ester wanted to hold her breath, take a moment to think beyond
the wild storm of desire that had her breasts aching for his return and her very
womanhood throbbing, but she couldn’t. Air wouldn’t catch in her lungs, and the
only thing she could think was,
He’s
doing it again, choosing Montana.

The thought of him leaving was devastating, something she
didn’t think she could live through again, but how could she fight Montana? It
wasn’t like Lenore, where she could physically stake her claim.

He was watching her, waiting for her to respond, and she wanted
to say she’d go with him when he left, but she couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

Slowly, shaking his head, he stood.

She threw herself against the back of the sofa and, bowing her
head, gnawed on her lip at the frustration tearing her apart, wishing she could
erase Montana from the face of the earth.

“Here,” he said. “You dropped this on the boardwalk.”

She took the rabbit-fur pouch, her greatest treasure in the
world, for he’d made it for her years ago. “Brett, I—”

“Don’t, Ester,” he said, picking his hat off the floor. “Your
eyes already told me your answer.”

As the screen door snapped shut, she grabbed the pillow off the
sofa and threw it across the room, where it hit the potted fern on the plant
stand, spewing dirt and leaves across the room.