Married by Christmas (8 page)

“What if you leave and they trail you here? What then?”

Caleb fisted his hands. It wasn’t impossible, but the odds were greater if he stuck around.

“You have to give up this irrational notion that you can protect the ones you care about by staying away. I tried my best to keep Sophie safe and look what happened...Landon accosted her. When I was out there in the woods, left to die, I came face-to-face with the truth—I’m not in control. God is.”

“He also gives us free will to make good or bad choices. My life is littered with bad choices. I can’t afford to put anyone else in harm’s way. Look at what happened to Ma.”

“That was not your fault.” Nathan crossed his arms and glared at him. “The storm spooked the horses. If anything, your management of the team prevented her from getting hurt worse.” His stance softened. “You need to pray about this situation with Rebecca.”

He snorted. “God doesn’t wanna hear from me.”

“You’re wrong, brother. He loves you.”

Head pounding and every nerve ending in his leg ablaze with pricks of white-hot heat, Caleb turned his face toward the wall. If he couldn’t convince Nathan to help him, he was finished with this conversation. “Tell Sophie and Will I said hi.”

“Get some rest.” He sighed. “I’ll be back soon.”

* * *

“I’m afraid the news of your injury has already traveled through town.”

Reverend Monroe had arrived precisely at ten o’clock, an air of gloom hovering around him and his head-to-toe black suit. Towering beside the bed, he looked expectantly at Caleb. Waiting for him to concede the need for a hasty wedding?

Rebecca shivered as a cold draft slammed against the door. This day—her seventh with Caleb under her roof—had been marked with a low, impenetrable ceiling of gray clouds and blustery winds. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever see the sun again.

The reverend’s apologetic gaze switched to her. “There’s already been talk. At the mercantile, post office. Folks are seeking me out, demanding information. I would like nothing more than to shield you and your sister from unpleasant gossip, but I can’t.”

“It will pass,” Rebecca said.

Of course Caleb, with his honed, hawklike perception, would zone in on the slight crack in her confidence. Anger on their behalf simmered in his hot gaze. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“It’s not just gossip I’m concerned about. There are those who will deliberately cut you and Amy out of their lives. I know you can likely handle such behavior, but what of your sister?” the reverend said gently. “Considering the difficulty she’s had dealing with the unexpected deaths of your parents, I would hate to see her hurt again.”

Shoving out of the chair, Rebecca stalked to the fireplace and stared down into the orange-yellow flames, her back to both men. Doubts pummeled her. While it wouldn’t be pleasant, she was strong enough to withstand being shunned. Amy, on the other hand, was young and impressionable, practical yet in many ways very sensitive. What if the kids at school treated her differently? Already her parents had been ripped from her. School had become a haven, a place of innocence and security and fun. How would Amy cope if that haven became a place of anxiety and unpleasantness?

Lost in what-ifs and distasteful scenarios, she didn’t hear the movement behind her. Suddenly Caleb’s lean, hardened body loomed over her. She couldn’t stop a gasp of surprise.

He was upright. Relying on crutches to support his weight, granted, but upright, making it necessary for her to actually lift her face to meet his eyes. His dark beauty hit her like a tangible force—the sleek black hair and glittering brown eyes set in a carved, pale face like a marble statue—perfect in every way save for the angry red lines fanning from his right eye to his hairline. Deep inside her disillusioned, lonely heart, hunger awakened, a yearning for solace and rest, connection and companionship. For just a little while, how wonderful it would be to let someone else shoulder the burden of running the farm and seeing to Amy’s needs.

Swallowing hard, she stepped back, away from the temptation Caleb unexpectedly presented. He was not the man to offer her any of those things.
He’s the enemy, remember?

The hard line of his jaw broadcasting his determination, he gazed down at her like a man minutes from facing a firing squad.

“We need to talk.”

A warning knell reverberated through her system. “No, we don’t.”

He ignored her retort. “Despite all the reasons a marriage between us defies logic...” He paused, braced himself. “I think we should consider it.”

Chapter Ten

R
ebecca gaped at him, half tempted to feel his forehead for signs the fever had returned. But the haze of illness no longer clouded his eyes. He was composed, focused. “Have you lost your mind?”

He grimaced, baring even, white teeth. “Apparently so, considering I’ve been asked that question twice in as many days.”

“You can’t be serious.” She glanced past him to the reverend, who had seated himself at the table and was staring into his coffee mug, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Hobbling closer, Caleb leaned in and spoke in hushed tones. “I know how you feel about me. I remind you of everything you’ve lost. And when I look at you...”

Rebecca’s breath stalled. Her heart thumped. Hung suspended. Surged again as his dark gaze roamed her face as if memorizing a map.

“I’m reminded of how greatly I failed my closest friends.” He frowned. “But this doesn’t just involve us. How we handle this will affect Amy for the rest of her life. I’m prepared to do what’s best for her. And for you.”

Her focus riveted to his mouth hovering an inch from her nose, she forgot all about the reverend sitting at her table. The spicy scent of the shaving soap still clung to his skin, scrambling her senses. He sounded so...mature. So
un
selfish. Nothing like the careless teenager she’d once known.

“I hardly know what to say,” she whispered. “What you’re suggesting is, well, it’s...”
Crazy. Deranged. Guaranteed to make them both miserable.
“Impossible.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Is there someone else besides Adam you’re set on marrying?”

Out of habit, she fingered the locket nestled between the buttons of her turquoise cotton blouse. Caleb zeroed in on the movement, and she dropped her hand to her side.

“No, of course not.” Unable to sustain his demanding gaze, she stared into the fire. She’d accepted that marriage was most likely not going to happen for her, had considered moving east to stay with her aunt and uncle once Amy was grown and settled. The sea and its many creatures would make delightful subjects for her paintings.

He dipped his head, bringing their cheeks side by side. “Then why not marry me?”

The movement of his lips near her ear snagged strands of hair. Rebecca stilled, terrified to move, mortified by what his nearness was doing to her equilibrium. “It would be a marriage in name only,” he whispered, his breath fanning across her cheek, “to satisfy the gossips. I spend most of my time in the high country, anyway, which means I wouldn’t even be around to bother you. Your life will go on much the same as it did before. When I’m around, I’ll help out with whatever needs to be done.”

“And what about you?” she murmured, his shirt collar and throat filling her vision. “Don’t you want to wait for a real marriage? One based on love and trust?”

Inching back so that he could meet her gaze, his upper lip curled. He hiked his right shoulder to indicate the scar. “With this mug? I don’t think so. Besides, I’m not looking for love. Too self-absorbed.” The stark loneliness warring with self-derision in the brown depths cut through her defenses.

“Why would you do this?” She stared deep into his eyes.

His throat worked. “I’ve let you down in the past. Multiple times. It’s my fault we’re in this mess, and I want to make it right. Fix it for you the only way I know how.”

“You’d be miserable.”

“So would you,” he shot back. “But Amy wouldn’t be, would she?”

She closed her eyes. A lifetime with Caleb wasn’t a dream come true. More like a nightmare from which she’d never wake. “I can’t.”

“I warned them that would be your response.”

Forcing herself to look at him, she wasn’t surprised when she was unable to read his mood. He’d had plenty of practice masking his emotions. “We can’t give them that kind of power over our lives, Caleb. Neither of us wants this. Amy is my responsibility. I’ll see to it that she isn’t hurt.”

“That’s just it, Becca. I’m not sure you can prevent it.”

* * *

Caleb left that afternoon.

As soon as they informed the reverend of their decision, he offered to fetch Nathan to move Caleb to their parents’ home. Given the steely determination in the older man’s gaze, it wasn’t an offer so much as an order. Their resistance clearly irked him.

Caleb had been quiet, his manner bordering on brooding, as they waited for his brother to arrive. Right before he left, he’d turned back and made her promise to come to him if she encountered any trouble.

Rebecca couldn’t get the intensity with which he’d said it out of her head, his seeming reluctance to leave. Probably her imagination. He must be as eager as she was to put this behind them.

Wringing excess water from the sheets Caleb had slept on, she strung them on a makeshift clothesline near the fireplace and tried to ignore the change in the cabin’s atmosphere. The weight of the silence was choking, as if his departure had sucked the energy and life from her home.

“See? Refusing him was the right thing,” she told herself, maneuvering the sudsy water basin across the floor toward the door. “Caleb has the uncanny ability to shred your good judgment.”

Amy was on the stairs, stomping the snow from her boots, when Rebecca opened the door. “Can you give me a hand with this?”

“Okay.”

Together, they carried the unwieldy load behind the house. The sun peeked through the clouds, glistening on the melting snow and warming Rebecca’s skin. Tipping the water out, Amy blew strands of hair out of her eyes.

“We have practice for the Christmas pageant tomorrow night. Should I walk to church or do you think Toby can manage the trip?”

Rebecca held the empty basin in one hand and kneaded her lower back with the other. “I’d like to go to town. How about we walk in together?”

Storm chose that moment to bound out of the forest, short legs splashing through the stream and startling them both. Amy nibbled at her lower lip. “Are you worried about the men looking for Caleb? Is that the reason you want to come with me?”

Her sister wasn’t aware of Rebecca and Caleb’s situation, and for once, she wasn’t sure what to reveal and what to keep hidden. While she wasn’t Amy’s parent, it sure felt like it sometimes, and she struggled to know what to do.

“I simply need a change of scenery.” Linking arms with Amy, she led her around to the porch. “And there are ingredients I need for the baking I have planned.”

“Are we going to make gingerbread cookies again this year?”

Rebecca smiled. Last Christmas had been their first without their parents. She’d hit upon the idea of making gingerbread cookies together, thinking it would be nice to start a tradition of their own. “Would you like that?”

Earnestness sparkled in her blue eyes. “Very much.”

Inside, they assembled a simple meal of fried potatoes, ham and corn bread. Neither mentioned Caleb, but she caught Amy’s gaze on his empty chair several times.

“You must be relieved to have your own bed again.”

“I didn’t mind sharing with you.” Sliding a stare at the bed, her brow furrowed. “I miss having Caleb around.”

“How about I play a game of checkers with you?”

“I thought you were going to paint.”

“I can paint later.”

Staying busy was the only way to keep their minds off their recent guest. Eventually his brief stay would be nothing but a fuzzy memory.

After they had played five games—with Amy besting Rebecca every time—the younger girl settled on the settee with a book and Rebecca took up her paints and paintbrush, deliberately painting a snowy landscape instead of the beguiling face that refused to leave her mind.

She passed a fitful night, worries presenting themselves in upsetting dreams. Had the trip across town caused Caleb undue pain? Was he getting the proper rest? Eating enough?

Where were the outlaws right this minute? Was refusing to marry him the right decision?

By the time pageant practice rolled around Thursday evening, Rebecca’s nerves were stretched taut. Depositing her cloak in the church alcove, she cringed as the kids’ chatter filling the main room struck her ears. Her skin felt too tight. Her legs were the consistency of molasses.

Amy dashed down the nearest aisle, braids flapping, and Rebecca stifled the urge to call her back.

Stop being ridiculous. I’ve nothing to be apprehensive about.

Strolling toward the front, she watched as her sister joined her dearest friends, Clarice and Laney, who were leaning against the piano. The girls pressed close to Amy and began whispering furiously. A couple of feet away, Oliver and Philip Pelletier laughed and pointed her direction, garnering the other children’s attention.

Rebecca stopped and seized hold of the nearest pew. It was like watching a field of parched grass catch fire, the flames leaping from stalk to stalk until the entire expanse had been consumed.

The dawning anxiety on Amy’s face confirmed every worry she’d wrestled with since turning Caleb down.

“Rebecca?”

Ripping her gaze away, she had trouble focusing on the beautiful young woman before her. A riot of white-blond curls framed fair features that were a study of concern.

“Megan. Hello.”

Megan Beaumont was in charge of organizing the pageant. She was also Caleb’s cousin.

“Are you okay?” she said. “You’re looking quite pale. Would you like to sit down?”

“I—”

Snippets of conversation among some of the parents drifted over. None of it complimentary. Their speculation as to what had happened between her and Caleb drove hot color to her cheeks.

Megan laid a hand on her arm, her sea-colored eyes intense. “Thank you for helping Caleb.”

Rebecca merely nodded, plucking at her suddenly too-snug bodice.

“I’m sorry you’ve been placed in this situation. My family and I will support you in any way we can.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

She wondered what to do. Stay and endure the stares? Embarrass Amy further by taking her home before practice commenced? It wasn’t as if Rebecca was a stranger to gossip. Her broken engagement and Adam’s subsequent departure had been the preferred topic of discussion for months on end.

But this felt different.

She wasn’t the victim any longer. She was the perpetrator of imagined misdeeds.

“Mrs. Beaumont,” a young voice called out, “we have a question.”

Megan hesitated, clearly torn. “I have to get practice under way. If you need to talk, I’m always available.”

Then she was hurrying to address the child’s concerns. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, Rebecca sank onto the bench. Leaving would only make her look guilty.

* * *

“We shouldn’t have come here.”

Rebecca sipped the ginger-laced tea, letting the hot liquid soothe her throat, while sneaking glances at the café’s other patrons. The speculative gazes she encountered quickly skidded away, followed by hushed whispers.

Her teacup rattled as she placed it on its saucer. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

Across from her, Meredith leaned forward, stark white cup cradled in her hands. “You can’t hide out in your cabin forever. This will pass.”

At least Plum’s wasn’t crowded this late in the afternoon. The proprietor, Mrs. Greene, emerged from the kitchen to deliver their cinnamon buns. Her compassionate gaze settled on Rebecca.

“I know you’re going through a rough time, dear. I wanted to tell you I admire you for sticking to your convictions. Keep your chin up.”

Rebecca’s response was cut off by the approach of another patron, Ruthanne Moore, whose husband owned Clawson’s Mercantile across the street. “Don’t listen to her.” She waved a heavily ringed hand. “Unless you want to wind up a lonely spinster.”

Mrs. Greene sighed. “Now isn’t the time, Ruthanne.”

The buxom blonde rolled her eyes. “You brought it up. Besides, it’s not like Rebecca doesn’t know she’s the topic of conversation at every table here.”

Meredith caught Rebecca’s attention and mouthed,
I’m sorry
.

Ruthanne dropped a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Listen to me, honey. That Caleb O’Malley is a fine specimen. Snag him while you still have a chance.”

By now, all conversation had ceased, and their table was the focus of everyone in the café. “Thanks for the advice,” she mumbled, certain she couldn’t force a bite of the sweet treat down. “Mrs. Greene, would you mind wrapping this up? I’ll take it home with me.”

Brows meeting over her nose, the proprietor nodded, removed the plate and steered Ruthanne away.

Gaze lowered, Rebecca fiddled with the delicate cup handle.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Meredith urged in a soft whisper. “The news is still fresh. Another month and everyone will have forgotten all about it.”

“I don’t know, Mer. What if they don’t? What if I made the wrong decision?”

After practice last night, Amy had been uncharacteristically quiet. Rebecca’s every attempt to draw her out had been rebuffed and, like a coward, she’d allowed the matter to drop.

“I have a feeling this will forever taint my reputation. I’ll always be the girl who sheltered a man unchaperoned in my home. There will be questions in people’s minds about my moral standing, about my virtue.”

“Not in everyone’s,” Meredith said fiercely. “Your friends, those who’ve known you your whole life, won’t question anything. We’ll support you.”

“What about Amy? There’s no question in my mind now that she will suffer because of my actions.”

Meredith was aware of Amy’s sensitivity, due to both her tender age and the tragedy that had visited her life.

“If you marry Caleb, you will be the one to suffer.”

“Better me than her,” she said.

Meredith patted her hand. “If I had siblings, I hope I’d be the kind of sister you are to her.”

Mrs. Greene brought the wrapped-up treat. “I put an extra in there for your sister.”

“That was thoughtful of you.” When Rebecca loosened the strings on her reticule, the older lady put out a staying hand.

“It’s on me this time.”

They thanked her and gathered their things, ignoring the lingering stares. Strolling along Main Street, Rebecca trained her gaze on the quaint church framed by bare-limbed trees and low, grayish white clouds. The stained-glass windows and festive greenery adorning the entrance added welcome color to the dreary landscape. Pine and smoke from burning woodstoves sharpened the cold air.