Mittman, Stephanie (29 page)

"Fine,"
he replied, just as sharply.

"Well,"
she said.

"Yes,
well," he returned.

She
reached behind her and pulled her hair back into the tight knot she liked to
keep it in and tried to stab the silky mound with her pin. His eyes fell to her
chest, pushed forward by her arched back, and then climbed her slender throat,
the chin that was tucked against it, and then rested on her bottom lip, caught
between her teeth as she maneuvered the pin through the waves of hair.

If
he could watch her twist that hair up every morning for the rest of his life,
he would die a happy man. If he could watch her take it down every night, he
would choose to never die.

"I'd
better go," he said, easing Julia's arm back into her sleeve and taking
her down from the counter. His arm brushed Annie's skirts, gently slipping over
her hip, and steadied Julia on the floor.

"Has
she got much experience with children?" Annie asked. "You'd best make
sure she knows that Julia ain— isn't using the chamber pot just yet."

He
nodded.

"Not
that there's any rush, sweetheart," she assured the little girl who stood
between them, studying her father's boots. "Make sure she isn't gonna go
pushing her faster than she's ready to go. Do that and you just move your day
problem into the night and spread it out over years instead of months."

He
nodded again.

"And
make sure she knows the value of vegetables and fresh air. A child can't have
too much fresh air, so when she puts Julia in for her nap she should leave the
window open."

He
nodded again.

And
then he smiled. Finding a housekeeper of which Annie would approve would be
like trying to finish Aladdin's window—impossible.

***

Annie
found the liquor in the back of the highest cabinet quite by accident. It gave
her one more worry about leaving the girls in the care of someone else. She
considered and dismissed the idea that the bottle might have belonged to Mrs.
Abernathy. Besides her attendance at the temperance meetings, which Annie well
knew could be all for show, just like her concern for the children, if the
bottle had been hers, she'd have surely taken it with her when she left.

Her
imagination ran wild all afternoon. What if in a drunken rage he hurt the
girls? What if in a drunken stupor he slept through their cries of pain or
fear? What if the new housekeeper found the liquor and walked out in anger,
leaving the girls to fend for themselves? Worse, what if she drank the liquor
instead?

She
saw herself with two choices: she could mark the bottle and check it the next
day to see if Noah was a regular drinker, risking God only knew what in the
meantime, or she could pour the bottle out and save untold grief for everyone
involved. The choice seemed clear, and the bottle was almost empty when a voice
rang out behind her.

"If
it was a problem for me, do you think there would have been three quarters of a
bottle left?"

The
sound so startled her she dropped the bottle, which clattered against the steel
sink, making a racket.

"There's
nothing to get so upset about," his smooth voice said. "I don't mind.
I don't expect to be cutting my hand again any too soon."

"Your
hand?"

"That's
why I opened it. To dull the pain a bit. It did too good a job," he added.

"There's
other things you could've taken." She kept her eyes on the sink and her
back to him. "I've some Humphreys' specifics that I keep in my cabinet for
just those kinds of emergencies."

He
took a few steps. She heard his boots on the floor, but she still hadn't turned
around and had no idea how close to her he had come. She prayed she wouldn't
feel his hands against her shoulders, spinning her around. She prayed and
prayed and yet she was disappointed when after a while he still hadn't reached
out to her.

"I'm
still a good three feet away," he said, as if he could read her mind. Her
cheeks warmed at the thought. "You're safe."

She
looked at him over her shoulder, knowing his words were the farthest thing from
the truth. She wasn't safe in the same room with him. Not in the same house.
She wondered if even the whole town was big enough for the two of them.
"I'm sorry. I guess I got carried away. I don't abide with drinking, but
it ain't my place to go pouring yours down the drain."

"Isn't.
And
no, it's not. But I don't mind. You're all the intoxication I need, Miss
Morrow. In fact, you're more than I can handle right now."

"Don't
say stuff like that." There was a quiver in her voice that was new to her.
She smoothed her hair back toward her bun and ran her fingers over the flare of
her skirts. It didn't make her feel any more in control.

"I
mean it." His hands just hung at his sides as he watched every move she
made.

"I
know." The words were dragged out of her against her will. Another kind of
woman would have enjoyed the power she held over Noah Eastman. Would have used
it. She, so far removed from courting and mating, was scared half to death by
it.

"I'm
not a drinker, Annie," he said, looking past her at the sink. "Some
here and there, maybe. I like to think I use whiskey wisely and well."

"Using
it at all ain't—" she was frustrated by her own tongue and took a minute
to tame it.

"You're
flustered, that's all," he said. "I know how that feels, all right.
Remember when I couldn't get out two words in your presence?"

She
couldn't help but laugh. "I think I liked you better then," she said.

He
shook his head. "No. You like me better now. You like me so much it
frightens you. But you'll get over it."

"The
liking you?"

Now
it was his turn to laugh. "No, you'll never get over that."

The
smell of whiskey was all around them. Julia's voice rose in the other room, and
Annie knew she was awake and needed changing. Noah's muddy boots had left a
trail from the front door to the middle of the kitchen. Supper needed to be
served and she'd had to settle for potato pie since she hadn't found any meat
to prepare. "I'll get over it," she said evenly. "See if I
don't."

As
if to convince herself, she brushed right by him, letting her arm touch his as
she passed, and went to see to Julia.

If
Annie thought that would help, she saw her mistake quickly when Julia reached
out pudgy little hands to her and uttered something that sounded all too close
to "mama." Her arms wrapped tightly around Annie's neck and she planted
a wet kiss on her cheek.

A
moment later a second pair of arms wrapped around her knees. "Don't go
away," Hannah said. "I love you, Miss Annie."

"Me
too," Julia added.

"I'm
all cleaned up," Ethan called from the parlor. "Supper ready?"

"I'm
taking it off the stove now," Noah shouted.

He
was
taking it off the stove? She hurried to put Julia in a clean diaper and get out
to the parlor. Noah had something up his sleeve, helping her like that, and she
was anxious to see just what it was.

The
table was set, rather haphazardly, and the potato pie sat on a trivet near the
head. Ethan came in from the kitchen with a water pitcher just as Annie slipped
Julia into her chair.

"He's
hitchin' up Blackie." Ethan looked at her quizzically. "How come
you're in such a hurry to leave?"

"All
set," Noah said, wiping his hands on his overalls as he came in.
"She's ready when you are."

"Don't
go," Hannah said. She grabbed a piece of Annie's skirt and hung on
tightly.

One
minute he was asking her to take care of his children, and the next he was
shooing her out of his house. Annie stood there trying to get her bearings in
what felt like a shift in the wind.

In
just a few strides he crossed the floor and knelt down beside Hannah, prying
her little fist open to release Annie's dress. "She'll be back
tomorrow," Noah said and looked up to make sure it was so. She nodded at
him. Hadn't she agreed to take care of the children until he found a
replacement? Did he think she would abandon the girls now?

"Of
course," she said gently as she fondled the top of Hannah's dark head.

"If
we behave ourselves," Noah added.

Annie
wasn't sure just who he meant.

Noah
had been standing on the porch for several minutes by the time Annie arrived
the next morning. With just a nod he unhitched Blackie, led him to the trough,
and tied him off there. Then he headed for the fields, leaving a very
bewildered Annie at his front door.

Boy,
he wished he'd had one of those new cameras he'd been reading so much about.
You
push the button, we do the rest,
the advertisements read. He'd be willing
to pay good money to save the look on Annie's face to show to their
grandchildren someday. You know, he'd tell them, your grandmother didn't know
at first that she was in love with me. Just caught her by surprise. See?

Ethan
was standing close to the barn, ready to start the day's work when Noah
approached. "Sissy don't look none too happy," he said.

"No,"
Noah agreed, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. "She doesn't, does
she? Wonder why that is?" If she was so intent on his staying away from
her, and on leaving his farm, why had the idea that he'd possibly found someone
to take over watching the children rankled her so? She made it seem as though
he'd thrown her out of the house last night, when all he'd done was hitch up
her horse and let her leave early. Shouldn't she have been glad to go?

And
this morning he'd done just as she wanted. Or said she did. He was out of the
house when she got there and he hadn't said a word to her. So how come she was
peering out the kitchen window at him with her brows drawn down and a pout that
looked like disappointment touching her full lips?

Because,
dammit, she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. She wanted him and
his kids, bless their little conniving hearts. When Hannah threw her arms
around Annie before supper and begged her not to go, Noah wanted to dance the
child around the room in gratitude. She was getting to Annie in a place that
was inaccessible to him, her need to mother a small one. The maternal instinct that
Wylene had been born without flowed through Annie's veins like alcohol in a
drunk. It was a self-perpetuating need, and the more she fed it the more it
craved.

"Noah?"
Ethan asked. "We gettin' to work today? Looks like we ain't got a lot of
time before the rain starts." He gestured with his head toward the
horizon, where dark clouds were gathering force and beginning to threaten.

"Yes,
of course," Noah said, his mind on everything but the harvesting.
"Eth, if it rains, do you have any plans for the afternoon?"

"Plans?
I planned to spend the day harvestin', same as always. If it rains, I'm free as
a bird." He looked at Noah. "Or ain't I?"

"Well,"
Noah explained, "I have some big plans, and I was thinking about putting
them in motion this afternoon."

"Why
do I think they got somethin' to do with my sister?"

"Because
you are not only intelligent but perceptive. Plus, you know I can't keep her
out of my mind."

"Noah,"
Ethan said as they made their way to the far end of the field, Ethan's eyes on
the ground, Noah's on the sky, "you know I like you a lot. I like workin'
for you, I like them two girls of yours. But before I take one step to help you
with this plan you have that concerns Sissy, I gotta know what you have in
mind."

Noah
stopped in his tracks and stared at the younger man beside him, touched.
"My intentions are completely honorable. I fully intend to marry your
sister."

"Oh,"
Ethan drawled, "I know that. I can see that, and you told me more than
once already. That ain't what's botherin' me."

Noah
waited patiently for the boy to fish around for the right words. He hoped he
found them soon, as Ethan was digging a good-size hole with his left boot.

"Look,"
he said finally. "My sister's had a rough life. I can't remember a day
when she wasn't up before the rest of us with that damn smile plastered on her
face to greet us when we came down to the kitchen, not a night when she wasn't
the last one to go to sleep after makin' sure all of us were fed, healthy, and
accounted for."

"And?"

"I
keep thinkin' about how easy she'd have it with Mr. Winestock. I keep thinkin'
she's earned it."

He
was at it again, the foot of the boot covered with dirt and still headed for
China.

"I
know that," Noah said slowly. He also knew that he would do everything in
his power, starting today, to make her life easier. And he knew one more thing
that he thought made all the difference. "But I can make her happy. Can
your Mr. Winestock do that?"

When
Ethan raised his head his eyes were glistening. There was a magic Annie
wrought, a loyalty that was planted deep and which flowered into love. Noah had
seen it in Francie when she mentioned her sister's name. It was here in Ethan.
Charlie and Risa were caught up in her spell, and even big old Bart showed a
protective side when it came to his older sister.