The Kissing Tree (26 page)

Georgiana couldn’t take her eyes off the box of letters her mother had just laid in her lap.

“But where . . . how did you . . . ?”

“I got a letter three weeks ago from your grandfather. He said you had asked him about some missing letters. It got me thinking, so I did some looking around. I found those hidden in your Aunt Cecelia’s room.”

“But why would she . . . how? Some of these I took to the post office myself.”

“I think Aunt Cecelia was paying Mrs. Schnell, an old school friend who works at the post office, to detain your letters going both directions and bring them to her.” Her mother was quiet for a moment, and then sighed deeply. “Your aunt wasn’t always this way, my dear.” Georgiana’s mother told her about the events in her sister’s life that had changed her so negatively. “It was devastating,” her mother said sorrowfully. “However, that does not excuse or justify her actions. She chose to harden her heart and become the kind of woman who could do such a thing to you . . . to her own sister.” Her mother’s voice broke. “There is something else I found too.” Her mother suddenly looked very saddened, as if she had discovered something profound. “While I was looking for the letters, I found a will.”

“A will?” Georgiana didn’t understand.

“My parents’ will . . . the original one. After they died, Aunt Cecelia had a new will made. I had it checked. The signatures are false.”

Georgiana was torn at the look on her mother’s face. She could tell that the sheer depth of betrayal by her sister disturbed her mother greatly.

“Would she really do such a thing?” Georgiana dared ask. Her mother nodded her head.

“When your father and I began courting, my parents were disappointed. They had made other hopeful plans for me, marriage plans which were more advantageous for both me and our family. The first time I saw your father, though . . . the first time he looked at me and spoke in his thick Irish brogue, there was no one else.” She smiled. “He was a dream I never thought would come true, in feature, form, and voice, and I knew that I was created to love him.

“Despite the fact that he wasn’t who my parents had in mind, your father was very amiable, as well as flattering. He even made my mother blush a time or two, as I recall. I knew they would grow to love him. I could already tell they were beginning to like him. That was why I was so shocked when all of a sudden their attitudes toward him changed. Father refused to give his blessing when Michael asked for my hand, and mother, more often than not, would break out in tears whenever I mentioned his name.

“Your Aunt Cecelia, on the other hand, disliked him immediately from the first time they met and was never found wanting in expressing her opinion of him. I suspected that somehow Cecelia had a hand in the ruination of my parents’ good opinion of your father, though I could never find out the truth of it.

“Though my father had refused him, I had already pledged my love to Michael. So I packed a bag and escaped the house early one morning. We were married that same day at the courthouse and headed here to Colorado. I wrote mother and father and begged their forgiveness and explained how deeply I loved Michael, but I never heard from them. Your aunt arrived shortly after we did and insisted I return with her. I’m afraid I had allowed her too much control over my life growing up and thus she felt she could force me into returning. Especially, she assumed, after I realized how uncivilized and impoverished a life I would be living in comparison to my life in New York.

“Truth was, I was never happier than here with Michael and your grandparents, and my happiness and joy gave me the strength to stand up to her. She left swearing I was no longer her sister and I would be cut out of our father and mother’s will. I never once regretted my decision.” Georgiana reached over and gently laid her hand on her mother’s arm as she continued. “When Father and Mother died, Aunt Cecelia sent me a letter, including a copy of the new will. It saddened me deeply. Not because they disinherited me, but because I had somehow hoped they had forgiven me. I had written them often, though I never got any letters in return. Somehow the will was evidence that they were still wroth. It caused me great pain and grief for many years. But now . . . finding those letters of yours and finding the will, I wonder. Perhaps yours weren’t the first letters Aunt Cecelia hid away.”

“Does Aunt Cecelia know? I mean, does she know you found my letters and the will?”

“Actually, she was out of town on some business when I left. As soon as I realized what she had done, I packed our bags and sent your grandfather a telegram. I knew where she kept her money stash, so I bought the tickets, and we came out immediately. She should be arriving home today. If she hasn’t read my letter already, I’m sure she will shortly. She won’t be pleased, I’m certain of that. I was quite blunt, I’m afraid, and held nothing back.”

“I wish I could see her face when she reads your letter,” Georgiana said thoughtfully.

“And so do I,” her mother agreed. After wiping the residue of tears from her face with her apron, she stood up. “Well, I best leave you alone. I’m sure you would like some rest or, at the very least, you might like some time to catch up on your mail.” Georgiana gave her mother a grateful nod as she turned and walked to the door.

“Thank you, Mother,” Georgiana said sincerely.

Her mother smiled warmly and left her room. Georgiana eagerly opened one of the letters from Sammy dated five years previously and began reading.

Dear Georgie,

I can’t believe you’re not coming back! How will I ever live without you? You’re my best friend. It just isn’t fair. So for now, I will not think of you as a lost friend, but as a new one living in the city. We will be great pen pals, I will keep you informed of everything that happens in Crystal Creek, including anything and everything about “you know who” and you can tell me all the exciting things in New York.

I am already feeling better. I think this is going to be fun . . .

The letter brought back fond memories, and she eagerly sifted through the pile. There was not one letter from Ridge. He really hadn’t written, not once. It was more than a disappointment. It spoke volumes about his true feelings.

Setting the letters aside, Georgiana decided she would rather read them later. Instead, she turned her thoughts to the letter Dawson had left for her. Despite her heavy heart, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. His letter had been sweet and his concern for her well-being evident. However, there was something else entirely that had her smiling. Dawson, she suspected, had feelings for Samantha. It was obvious by the way he wrote about how much fun he was going to have showing Samantha around New York. She was happy for him and her dear friend. She realized the night of the dance they were perfect for each other. At least something good had come of all this.

Reaching over with some difficulty, Georgiana managed to extinguish the lamp without hurting her shoulder. She snuggled in the warmth of her blankets. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered where Ridge was tonight. Again she felt warmth pass through her as she distinctly remembered his presence over the past few days. Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he been here when she had awakened? Closing her eyes, she conjured up a vision of him. He was smiling at her, his warm eyes boring into her own as his face descended toward her lips to devour them in a blissful kiss. That kiss would be the fabric of her dreams tonight.

Jimmy helped Georgiana down from the wagon.

“Thank you, Jimmy.” She smiled warmly up at him, then looked at the worried face of her mother. “I’m fine, Mother.”

“The doctor would have gladly come over to the house. I don’t know why you insisted—” her mother began complaining.

“Mother, I know he would have, but I needed to get out,” Georgiana interrupted. “I’m going crazy lying in bed all day. I haven’t had so much leisure time since I’ve been here! It will be a nice change to be seen in his clinic.”

Her mother came over and patted her on the arm.

“I know, dear. It’s hard going from being busy and needed to being waited on hand and foot, but still I worry.”

Georgiana looked over to Jimmy. He seemed anxious. Jimmy, she had discovered, had been seeing Millie Gunners, the blacksmith’s daughter. She could tell he wanted to be excused so he could go visit with her.

“Thank you for your help, Jimmy. I’m sure we can manage from here.”

“Thank you, Miss McLaughlin, and you, Mrs. McLaughlin.” He nodded his head politely to each of them and was off in the direction of the blacksmith’s in a flash. Georgiana turned to her mother.

“Why don’t you pick up the things we need at the mercantile while I see Doc Hansen. Mrs. Whitaker would love to hear a tidbit or two from you, I’m sure.” Her mother rolled her eyes.

“And I’m sure, whatever I tell her, the whole town will know in a matter of hours,” her mother remarked, and they both laughed.

“You must have a good memory then, Mother.”

“Where that woman is concerned, I do. She certainly isn’t my first choice of persons to visit after all these years, but . . .” Her eyes lit up. “Maybe on second thought I should visit her. Maybe I’ll have a little fun.”

“Mother, you wouldn’t!” Georgiana pretended shock. Her mother’s mischievous smile told her she would indeed.

“Well, enjoy yourself,” Georgiana called over her shoulder as she headed toward the doctor’s office. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

When Georgiana arrived at Dr. Hansen’s office, there was a note posted. It read,
Called out on emergency. Be back shortly. You can wait in the office if you desire. —Doc Hansen.

Sighing and turning away from the door, Georgiana looked around. She had no desire to wait in a stuffy office. She had been cooped up too long. Nor did she have any desire to go to the mercantile and be subjected to Mrs. Whitaker’s endless questioning. Besides, it might ruin her mother’s fun. She would just find a place to wait outside.

Looking up the street, her eyes caught sight of the old oak. Suddenly she had a strong desire to see the inscription again that she had discovered engraved into the tree. Casually, she strolled up the street in its direction.

When Georgiana reached its branches, she paused, and as was fast becoming a habit, she looked around to make sure she wasn’t being watched before ducking under its cover. She stood motionless for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

Instantly, the memories came flooding back, and she walked up closer to the tree trunk and crouched down. As she had done before, she ran her fingers over the inscription.

The thought occurred that he must have at least liked her a little to have taken the time to carve it, even if he had never written. She thought back again to that day, and she was lost in her reminiscing until she heard a sound. Quickly she turned, startled at who might be watching, but there was no one.

Then she saw it. Something hanging from a branch . . . a bundle of some sort, a bundle of letters tied with a ribbon . . . a very familiar blue ribbon. Walking over to it, she untied it and examined the bundle in her hands. She looked around, but she was alone. Was it already hanging there when she had first ducked under the branches? She didn’t remember seeing it, but then her eyes had needed to adjust to the shadows. Maybe she had missed it somehow.

Somewhat awed, she sat down, leaning her back against the trunk. She untied the bundle and sifted through the letters in her hand. There were so many, all addressed to her, and all stamped with big red letters that read, Return to Sender. Still, Georgiana smiled as she ran her fingers over his childish scrawl.

He had written her!
The thought tumbled over and over in her mind.
Practically as many times as she had written him!
Her aunt, though, hadn’t just kept his letters but had returned them. It was somehow crueler. Poor Ridge, he must have thought . . . quickly she stood up. She had to tell him. Tell him it wasn’t she who had returned his letters, but her horrid aunt. If all this time he thought . . . no wonder! Her gaze was drawn back down at the letters. She wanted to read just one first, then she would find Ridge and talk to him.

Sitting back down against the tree, Georgiana carefully opened up the first one.

Georgie,

Hi. I guess I just wanted to see how you were doin’, if you like the city and all. I’m sure there are lots of fun things to do.

It’s sure boring without ya around. Samantha hasn’t been any fun. If anyone mentions your name, she starts cryin’.

By the way, I went back and caught that huge bullfrog. Told everyone it was yours though. Jonas and Jeremiah were so jealous. Asked what I was goin’ to do with it now that you were gone. I told them I was savin’ it for ya. You were sure to be back at least for a visit before too long, right?

I guess I’d better say good-bye for now. Still got chores to do, and Schoolmaster Robinson gave me a two hundred word essay to write, and it wasn’t cause I pulled a prank or anythin’. I don’t break my promises.

Well, I wish you were here. It’s going to be a long summer without ya.

Love,

Ridge

P.S. By the way, if you were here . . . I’d steal back that kiss.

Georgiana read the letter two more times before putting it back in the envelope. Taking the pins from her hair, she ran her fingers through it to smooth it out. Then she took the ribbon and tied her hair back as she had done as a child for church or rare occasions. Satisfied, she laid the letters beside her and leaned her head back against the tree trunk, closing her eyes. An unexpected smile suddenly lit her face.
He had written!

Still exhausted from her ordeal
,
it wasn’t long before she had accidentally fallen asleep.

◁ ◊ ▷

Ridge watched as Georgiana ducked under the branches of the old oak. Sneaking up quietly, he’d hung the letters, tied with her ribbon, to a branch and then snuck away before being caught. He was standing outside the bank talking to Mr. Wallace when Georgiana’s mother hurried up to him, a worried expression on her face.

“Have you seen Georgiana, Mr. Carson? She went over to Doctor Hansen’s place but he hasn’t seen her. He was out and has only just returned. I can’t imagine where she has gone off too. What if—” Her mother sounded worried.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Mrs. McLaughlin,” Ridge interrupted. Excusing himself from Mr. Wallace, he took her arm and guided her across the street to where Jimmy waited by the wagon. “I think I know where she is,” he admitted. “Why don’t you go home, ma’am, with Jimmy here, and I’ll go find Georgiana and bring her home myself.” Ridge gave her a mischievous grin and winked.

All worries left her face immediately and were replaced by a satisfied expression.

“You found the letters then?” She smiled knowingly.

“Yes, and I’m sure by now she’s found mine.” Mrs. McLaughlin looked confused a moment, but Ridge nodded in the direction of the oak tree, and a look of enlightenment crossed her face.

“Well then, Mr. Carson, I’ll leave her in your good hands. I should be getting home to start supper anyway. Don’t want Angus to try anything drastic in the kitchen if he gets too desperate. That man can destroy a kitchen in no time at all, which wouldn’t be so bad if what he cooked was edible.” She laughed and reached over, laying her hand on his arm. “She loves you, Ridge. Don’t let her deny it.” Then she let go and walked over to Jimmy, who helped her up onto the wagon.

Ridge turned and looked back to the old oak. She’d been there quite a while, so he headed in that direction. He stopped only long enough to take a deep breath before he moved the branches aside and ducked underneath their cover.

◁ ◊ ▷

Georgiana opened her eyes, awakened by the sound of crunching leaves. The first thing she saw was a pair of boots. Her eyes followed them up until she was looking directly into Ridge’s face.

“Hello, Mr. Carson.” She couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

“Miss McLaughlin.” He politely tipped the brim of his hat.

“I must have fallen asleep.” As she spoke, he reached his hands toward her to help her up. When their hands met, she felt the familiar warmth surge through her. “Thank you,” she said, feeling a slight blush tinge her cheeks.

He didn’t respond, just stared at her. Letting go of one of her hands, he reached over and plucked a leaf from off her head that must have fallen as she slept. Self-consciously, Georgiana reached her free hand up to smooth her hair and realized she was still wearing it down, tied back with the ribbon. Embarrassed at how she must appear, she raised her hand again to remove it. Ridge reached out and stayed her hand.

“Leave it . . . please.” He smiled so endearingly that she let her hand drop to her side.

Her cheeks warmed again, and her heart began beating madly. She stared into his eyes only for a moment until her gaze fell to his lips. Would she ever be able to stop imagining those lips pressed against her own? Her heart sped up even more.
He won’t need to steal a kiss today,
she thought, for she would give him her kiss gladly, if he still wanted it.

Finally, she found the courage to look into his eyes. He
was
going to kiss her. She could tell by his expression. What was he waiting for? Impatiently, she moistened her lips. She wanted nothing more than his kiss, and the silence and the waiting were driving her crazy.

“I . . . I found your letters,” she said nervously, breaking the silence. “Thank you. You know I didn’t—”

“I know,” he said before she could finish and placed his arms around her waist.

“Because I never would have . . .”

“It’s okay, Georgie . . . I know.” He leaned her back against the tree and leaned his own body against hers.

“I just can’t believe my aunt would . . .”

“Georgiana?” Leaning forward, he whispered her name into her ear, and slowly trailed his lips down the length of her cheek and neck, hovering just above her skin. His breath was warm, and the sensation caused an intense delirium to pass through her.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to be quiet so I can kiss you?”

Instantly her body thrilled. “Uh . . . huh.”

“Good, because I want this to be a kiss you’ll remember.”

“I remember all your kisses, Ridge, even the one
I
stole.” Her heart fluttered dangerously as he gave his crooked smile.

“Not like you’ll remember this one,” he promised, his voice already husky.

He kissed her then, first soft and slow, then, as if his lips were starved for her, he kissed her with a hunger and a passion she’d never dreamt of. Her heart beat madly in her chest. Her knees felt weak from sheer pleasure and longing. She returned his kiss with as much passion as his own, which caused his kiss to deepen further. Reaching up, she lost her fingers in the softness of his hair and he drew her even closer. Never before had she known such bliss. Never had she imagined such a kiss.

Forcibly, he drew his lips from hers.

“Georgiana Anne McLaughlin?” He was breathing hard with restrained passion.

“Hmm?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Uh . . . huh.”

“Soon?”

“Today, if you like.” She laid her head against his chest. His heart was pounding nearly as madly as her own.

“I think I can give ya at least a week to get ready. Don’t want your mother to be angry with me. You’re her only daughter, ya know.”

“Okay . . . one week then.” She looked up into his face, ready to be kissed again.

“If you really need more time, I guess I could wait two. After all, I
have
waited years already.” He smiled down at her.

“Ridge?” She removed her hands from around his neck and placed them on his cheeks.

“No longer than two, ’cause I don’t think—”

“Ridge?” She leaned in close to his face.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to be quiet and kiss me?”

“Uh . . . huh.” He smiled.

“Because we’re standing under the kissing tree, you know . . .” Her heart sped up even more as he leaned in closer, a breath away. “And I’m sure this old giant has witnessed a lot of kisses.”

“Well, then.” The look he gave her made her knees almost buckle this time. “Let’s give
him
one to remember.”

Before his kiss could find her, she spoke once more.

“I love you, Ridge Carson . . . ever I have loved you.”

“And I love you, Georgiana McLaughlin. More than words . . .” His lips moved closer, “Or kisses . . .” He paused, hovering, his sweet breath mingling with her own. “Can say.”

Finally, his lips were hers.