Robin Lee Hatcher (13 page)

She smiled. “No, I didn’t imagine this.”

He said nothing more, and although she couldn’t see his eyes, she was certain he watched her. The silence stretched out, and the air felt thick between them. Emily remembered when she’d touched his hands in front of the fire last night. She remembered the strange feelings that had caused her to go to her room, to get as far from him as she could.

It was almost as if . . . as if she were attracted to him. As if she wished —

No! She felt no such thing. He was a married man. Married to a woman she considered her friend. Besides, he’d been beastly to her from the first day they met. She had no reason to be attracted to him.

And yet —

Covering her mouth, she drew in a little gasp of air as she squeezed her eyes closed.

No . . . no . . . no. . .

Gavin said, “Listen. The storm’s over.”

She heard him stand and leave the stall. Only then did she dare open her eyes. Only then did she realize the wind no longer blew, that snow was no longer being driven into the side of the barn.

His footsteps told her he was in the loft above her head. “Dru,” she heard him call. Then, after a short wait, he said, “We’re all right. Miss Harris is here with me.”

Dru must have said something, but Emily couldn’t hear her.

“No. Stay inside,” Gavin continued. “We can manage. I’ll dig things out later.” Silence, and then his voice was directed toward her. “Miss Harris, we can go now.”

Emily stood and brushed straw from her skirt and plucked it from her hair. Then she leaned down and stroked the calf ’s muzzle. “Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“Miss Harris?”

“I’m coming.”

She climbed the ladder, but forgot to be afraid. Heights were the least of her problems now.

Dru watched from the window as Gavin used the rope on the pulley to lower Emily from the hay door to the ground. She saw the wary expression on Emily’s face as Gavin untied the rope from around her waist, saw the awkward way she leaned away from him, as if trying to escape his touch. As they made their way toward the cabin, Emily stumbled in the deep snow, but Gavin caught her by the elbow before she could fall. He let go as soon as she was steady.

Dru let the curtain fall back into place and went to the door. Snow spilled into the house.

“Brina, bring some towels to wipe up the snow. Pet, are the blankets ready?”

“They’re ready, Ma.”

“Bring them to me.”

She opened the door wider as Gavin and Emily took the last few steps to reach the house.

“You must be frozen to the core,” she said as she took Emily’s arm and drew her inside. “Take off your coat. We’ve warmed blankets by the fire.”

Emily did as she was told, and very soon Dru had her wrapped in a warm blanket and seated next to the fire. At Dru’s insistence, Gavin was soon seated beside her. Neither of them said a word. Neither of them looked at the other. They didn’t seem angry, but tension crackled between them.

Dru felt a flutter of joy. It was happening. What she’d hoped for from the beginning was happening. They were attracted to each other. Attracted and resisting it — because of her. Gracious. She hadn’t considered that she would be an impediment while she was alive, although she should have. Gavin was a principled man, and Emily was a virtuous young woman. How was she to nurture their growing affection in these days or weeks before the Lord took her home while still preserving their honor? How was she to help them fall in love so that after she was gone . . .

Give me wisdom, Lord.

Thirteen

After two days of being snowbound, everyone felt restless, the children especially so. Emily had done her best to keep their minds occupied, but even she felt taxed to the limit. She wanted to be anywhere but here, kept in such close quarters with the Blake family. No, it wasn’t the family that made her nerves scream. It was being in such close proximity to Gavin. Whenever he was in the same room, she found it difficult to breathe.

Thankfully, he wasn’t in the room at present.

Emily turned from the window to look at the two girls seated at the table. “I’ll bet there isn’t a bit of snow in Boise. The weather’s almost always warm for the Howard Clive Ball. It’s
the
social event of the fall season.”

“What’s a ball?” Petula asked.

Sabrina answered, “It’s a dance, silly.”

“Don’t call your sister names,” Dru cautioned.

Petula stuck out her tongue at Sabrina in a so-there expression.

If Emily didn’t do something, they would be fighting in a few seconds. “I do love to waltz,” she said, hoping to distract them. She twirled in a circle, arms out as if holding a dance partner.

Sabrina and Petula pushed aside their schoolbooks, waiting for her to continue.

“Tell us more,” Sabrina encouraged.

Emily was only too happy to oblige. “The first year we were in Idaho — that was a long, long time ago — my sister attended the event. It’s where my brother-in-law proposed to her. I was only six, but I remember how she looked that night. Her gown was silvery-blue and there were little puffed sleeves right here.” She pointed to the spot on her upper arms. “The dress had a big skirt, held out by lots of stiff petticoats. Well, maybe they weren’t petticoats. Maybe she had a hooped skirt. Dresses were so different back then.”

Emily sat across from the children and rested her chin in the palms of her hands, elbows on the table. “My first ball gown was very different from Maggie’s. It was apple green and embroidered with red poppies, and it had a square neck edged with white lace. I wore long white gloves that had gold bands at the wrists. The vogue was for long trains then, and my first ball gown had a very long one, indeed. I felt so grown up in it. I danced and danced and danced that night. Mr. Clive had an orchestra up in a loft above the ballroom, and they hardly ever stopped playing. It was magical.”

“I bet you were the prettiest girl there.”

“Thank you, Pet. That’s very sweet of you to say.” Her gaze flicked to the far end of the parlor where Dru sat near the fireplace, knitting a scarf.

Emily closed her eyes, envisioning herself in that same dress, and she wondered: Would Gavin have wanted to dance with her if he’d been there? The moment the question formed in her mind, she willed it to go away. She couldn’t think about him like that. She mustn’t think about him like that.

Sabrina leaned forward. “Do you suppose, when I’m old enough, I could go to the ball? Do you think anybody’d want to dance with me?”

Eyes open again, Emily reached across the table and clasped the girl’s hand. “If you lived in Boise, you would most assuredly be invited, and all the young men would want to dance with you.”

“I don’t know how to dance.” Sabrina looked crestfallen.

The girl’s expression squeezed Emily’s heart. “Then we must teach you at once. Put your book down and stand up.” She shoved chairs against the walls as she spoke, clearing a wide space in the middle of the parlor. Satisfied, she turned toward Sabrina. “Come here.”

In short order, she instructed the child how to stand, how to hold her partner’s hand, how to follow the man’s lead. “And you should smile all the while, as if you know a secret that your partner doesn’t know.” She laughed, then hummed a tune, swaying with the melody.

Sabrina gripped Emily’s hand as the two began to slowly turn about the room.

“Relax, Brina. It’s supposed to be fun.”

The girl tripped over her own feet, bringing them to a halt. She looked as if she might burst into tears.

“No one gets it right the first time,” Emily said in a low, encouraging voice. “It’s easier when you see others dancing.”

From across the room, Dru said, “Let your pa show you. Gavin, dance with Miss Harris.”

Emily caught her breath. When had Gavin returned? She kept her eyes trained on Dru, answering, “I . . . I think it would be better if Mr. Blake danced with Brina.”

Sabrina said, “But you said it’s easier to learn if I see others dancing. I can’t see when I’m dancing with Pa.”

“Gavin,” Dru said softly. “Dance with Miss Harris. Show Brina how it’s done.”

Gavin answered, “I think they’re doing fine.”

Emily felt herself relax a little. He didn’t want to dance with her. That was all for the best.

But Dru didn’t let it go. “Please, Gavin. Do it for me.”

A long silence followed. Emily was tempted to glance in the direction of his voice, but she was afraid to look. What should she do? What could she say to —

“All right, Dru,” he said. Then, “May I, Miss Harris?”

This shouldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening.

She turned to face him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t. Your head — ”

“My head is fine.” He held out his arms for her, but she could see his reluctance matched her own.

Emily had promised herself that she wouldn’t feel anything more for this man than the proper regard for an employer. Surely she could dance with him, at his wife’s request, and remain emotionally withdrawn.

She stepped into his arms.

He began to sway from side to side, then, as he hummed the same melody she had hummed a short while before, they began to twirl around the parlor. Emily stared at the base of his throat, afraid to look up, afraid to look into his eyes, afraid he might see what she was feeling — feelings she didn’t want to have. It was the most torturous dance of her young life.

Gavin.

They spun to a halt in the middle of the room. Her skirts swished around her ankles, then stilled. Emily withdrew her hand from his and stepped away, her pulse pounding in her ears.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Harris.”

She had to look at him then. Couldn’t keep from it.

He bowed his head.

Dru and the girls applauded. “That was wonderful,” Dru said. “Absolutely charming.”

Emily had never felt this way before. She longed to step back into his embrace. She wanted to be in his arms, to be there even when she knew she shouldn’t want to be there.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.
Recalling that commandment made her want to groan, because surely it meant her neighbor’s husband as well.

She turned away from him. “Your turn, Brina. Dance with your father.”

Without waiting to see what happened, she went to the table, fighting for composure and praying no one had seen the storm that battered her from within.
I don’t belong here. I must leave. I must.

As suddenly as the temperature had dropped and the blizzard blew through, warming winds arrived the next day to melt the snowfall. Water dripped from the eaves of the house and barn. Brown, muddy spots of earth appeared in the yard. In a few days, all traces of snow would be gone, and they would leave the basin.

Gavin tossed another flake of hay over the side of the stall, then leaned on the top rail as the black gelding buried his nose in the feed, searching for the most delectable shoots.

They needed to get out of this valley. They needed to see some other people, say howdy to their Challis neighbors. He’d like to play a few games of checkers with Patrick O’Donnell and take the girls to the mercantile where they could buy a new hair ribbon or a new doll. Things were too close here, too secluded. He needed to keep busy, get his mind back to the business of ranching instead of thinking so much on —

He didn’t allow himself to finish that train of thought. It could only lead to trouble.

Gavin left the barn and returned to the cabin. Inside, he took off his coat and hung it on the nearest peg. “It’s warming up out there.” He turned around.

Dru sat in her rocking chair near the fireplace, a bundle of mending on the rug near her feet, needle and thread in her hands.

“We’ll be out of here in a couple of days or so.”

She nodded, but it was easy to see the thought didn’t make her happy.

He moved toward her. “Spring will be here before you know it.”

“Spring.” Her expression grew wistful. “I always loved to see spring come. It’s so beautiful when the wildflowers are in bloom.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing his fingers in wordless acknowledgment of what she hadn’t said. Time was growing short.