Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise (37 page)

❧

Luke rode straight to the Banks house. James himself opened the door at Luke's impatient knock.

"Luke." James's brows rose in surprise, but he said only, "Won't you come in?"

Luke's eyes bored into him. "This isn't a social call."

"Somehow I suspected as much. Why don't we go into my study?"

Luke followed him into the darkly paneled room. James sat in one heavy leather chair and offered Luke another. Luke remained standing.

"I came here to tell you to leave Julie alone." James simply looked at him, saying nothing. "I won't have you playing with her, like you did before."

"I assure you, I am not playing."

"Her name is all over town! There's nobody that isn't talking about you and her."

James frowned. "Something disrespectful? Is anyone daring to say—"

"They're daring to say that you're chasing her like a dog with one bone. That you escort her everywhere, that there's hardly a day that you aren't planted on her front porch."

"That's true. You can't blame people for speaking the truth."

"Yeah, and what are they going to say when you don't marry her? What'll they say when you leave her high and dry? Julie will be the mockery of this town. They'll say you got what you wanted from her, so there was no need to marry her. Damn it. Banks, I won't let you lie with her and abandon her again, with the whole town of Willow Springs watching!"

James sprang to his feet, his eyes suddenly blazing. "Damn it, if you weren't Julia's brother, I'd—"

"You'd what?" Luke's eyes glittered. "Get beat up again? Come on, Jimmy, you want to try me?"

"Listen!" James came forward, his body taut with frustration and anger. "You always go off half-cocked, Turner. Have you ever thought of hearing the whole story before you jump in, fists swinging?"

"I don't need to hear the whole story to know that you're the son of a bitch that got my sister pregnant and left her once."

"I didn't."

Luke's lips curled into a sneer. "Sure."

"Goddamn it! I didn't leave her! I won't now! I love her. I want to marry her."

"What?"

"I want to marry Julia. I've asked her to marry me. I've courted her with all the honor, respect, and pomp I know how. I have not compromised her in any way. It's Julia who won't marry me. She won't say yes."

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie? Ask Julia."

"But you walked out on her when she—"

"I did not walk out on her! I wouldn't have, ever. I know what you think of me; and God knows, I didn't act like much of a gentleman where Julia was concerned. But I loved her. I planned to marry her. She didn't tell me she was pregnant. She just married Will Dobson and left me to find it out from your pa. I never knew she had my child until a few weeks ago. I love her."

Luke stared at James. He didn't want to believe him. He wanted to blame James; he wanted someone to yell at, someone to hit. He needed a release for the wild frustration inside him. But he knew that James was telling the truth. "She didn't tell you."

"No."

It sounded like something Julia would do, taking the blame on herself, asking no one for help. Slowly the anger drained out of Luke. He felt suddenly old and tired. "Christ." Luke took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. "So I hated you all these years for nothing." He looked at James, puzzled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know what you thought. I never knew she was carrying my child." James sighed and flopped back down in the chair. "I thought she didn't want me anymore. I presumed you hated me for seducing your sister. And I had. I could hardly defend myself against that. Loving a woman doesn't excuse a man from having taken his pleasure at her expense."

"No," Luke agreed in a weary tone. "It doesn't."

For the first time James noticed that Luke didn't look good. He had lost weight, and his face was drawn. He seemed tired, almost ill, but there was something else—an almost haunted expression in his eyes.

"Luke, are you all right?"

"What? Yes, of course."

"You don't look it. Maybe you should let me check you out."

Luke grimaced. "I'm fine. Just tired from the harvest."

"You've lost weight."

"I always do in the summer."

"Mrs. Turner's all right?"

"Yeah. Sarah's fine."

"Is she expecting again? Are you worried about that?"

"No!" Luke flared. James appeared taken aback at his emphatic answer, so Luke tried to soften it a little. "She's not. She's doing fine."

James's eyes narrowed. He suspected what was wrong with Luke. He should have realized the signs earlier, he'd felt the same ache and frustration often enough the past few months. "You know, there's nothing to keep your wife from getting pregnant again. The premature birth didn't do any permanent damage to her."

"No. She won't."

"You haven't had intercourse with her, have you?"

"That's none of your business."

"Luke, it's all right. I told your wife that you could resume relations in a couple of months."

"She's not getting pregnant again."

"Is this Sarah's decision?"

"Of course not. She'd never deny me anything. She wouldn't do a thing to protect herself."

"Then you're the one who doesn't want to—"

"Damn it!" Luke slammed his fist into the back of the leather chair beside him, his fury and frustration tumbling out. "Of course I want to! How could I not want her? But I almost killed her before. I can't let it happen again. I won't!"

"What do you mean, you almost killed her? Luke, do you think that you somehow caused her to lose the baby?"

"Yes." His eyes were bleak. "I took her, and she was too far along."

"That wasn't the reason, Luke."

"Your father told us it would harm the baby. Harm Sarah."

James sighed. "My father was a good doctor, but he wasn't God. A lot of older doctors think that, but in my opinion intercourse is safe until the last month. No one has shown that it's done any harm to the fetus or the mother. Medicine changes; medical opinions change."

"She lost the baby. She almost died."

"It wasn't because of that. Your wife went into labor too early because the placenta broke free from the wall of the uterus and moved down until it was between the fetus and the cervix. That was why there was so much blood. But that condition is simply something that happens. You didn't cause it, Luke. It would have occurred no matter what you did or didn't do. It was fate."

Luke stared at James. Deep inside him something broke and fell free. He felt suddenly years younger, pounds lighter. Was he really not responsible for Sarah's pain? For the baby's death? It was too good to be true; he wanted too much to trust it.

He ran his hands through his hair. He didn't know what to say or do now. Everything had been turned upside down in the last few minutes. Jimmy, Julia, Sarah's losing their baby. Things he'd been certain of were suddenly false. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. Julia never told me that you didn't know." He sighed. "I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll give the bride away, if I can ever get Julia to accept me."

"All right." Luke paused. "Why won't she marry you?"

James made a face. "Because she's the stubbornnest woman this side of the Mississippi."

Luke smiled fractionally. "No. The second stubbornnest. I'm married to the first." He turned and walked to the door, then swung back. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For what you told me. All of it."

"Sure."

Luke left the Banks house and mounted his horse. He rode slowly back to the farm. He felt jumbled up inside. He was enormously relieved. He hadn't caused the baby's death. The heavy guilt that had lived inside him for months could now drain away.

He wasn't a killer. James hadn't appeared revolted or even surprised when Luke admitted that he had made love to Sarah late in her pregnancy. Perhaps he wasn't as bad, as wrong, as he had thought. Maybe tonight when they climbed the stairs to bed, he would follow Sarah into their room. They could sink into the big feather bed where they'd shared such pleasure, and—but no.

He must not let himself get carried away. He hadn't caused her to lose the baby, true enough, but he sure as hell had caused the pregnancy. And that was the real issue. As long as Sarah didn't get pregnant, there would be no risk of the same thing happening, no pain of childbirth, no chance of her dying. It was up to him to make sure it didn't happen. However much James's words might relieve him of his guilt, he still couldn't make love to Sarah.

❧

Julia pushed the file into the folder and stood up, closing the drawer with her foot. She stretched her back, aching from a hill day of work, and glanced around the waiting room. It was empty; James was in one of the examination rooms with the last patient. As soon as the man came out, Julia would be able to collect his money, enter it in the ledger, and leave. She was ready. It had been a hot, hard day.

She moved around the room, straightening the furniture, plumping cushions back into shape, arranging her desk neatly. She stopped in front of the small mirror Wisps of hair had escaped her upswept hairdo and hung in damp strips around her neck. She smoothed them back up and tried to secure them with hairpins. It wasn't an entirely successful effort. She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror and turned away.

Julia didn't know why she was always so concerned with looking good for James. It would be better if she didn't. Maybe then he would abandon this crazy idea of marrying her. It was becoming difficult to work with him, not because he pressured her, but because of the sexual tension between them. The air fairly sizzled with it. She couldn't stand beside him, handing him instruments, without being aware of how close their bodies were, of how little it would take to brush against him and what sparks it would set off if she did. James never touched her at work, but the passion and love were there in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

Julia sighed. She didn't know how much longer this could go on. She rolled down her sleeves and fastened the row of small round buttons along the narrow cuff. There was the sound of a wagon and team stopping in the street outside, and she went to the front window, hoping that it wasn't a late patient arriving.

There were three men in the back of the wagon and a fourth driving it. They all jumped down and went to the back of the wagon. They pulled out two wide wooden planks with a man's body stretched on them, moving slowly and carefully. Julia flung open the door and hurried out onto the steps.

One of the men glanced up at her. "Fetch the doc. We got Bud O'Brien here, and he's busted up pretty bad. Fell off the gin."

Julia flew back into the office, leaving the door open for the men and their burden. "James! James!" She opened the door of the examining room. James was already reaching for the knob on the other side.

"What is it?"

"Some men from the cotton gin. They're carrying in Bud O'Brien; he fell off the gin."

"Good Lord." He glanced back at the man in the room. "Excuse me, Mr. Chandler." He strode toward the front door, calling back over his shoulder. "Julia, get the operating room ready."

Julia did as he requested. The men brought in O'Brien and laid him on the table, and James went to work on him. Both James and Julia knew as soon as they saw the man that it was hopeless, but they worked valiantly nonetheless to save him. Both of O'Brien's legs were broken, but far worse were the massive internal injuries. James did his best to stem the hemorrhaging, but he could not. Less than an hour after O'Brien was brought in, the breath shuddered out of him and he died.

"Damn!" James dropped his instruments into the metal bowl. "Goddamn it!"

"It wasn't your fault, James. No one could have saved him."

"I know." His voice was as weary as his face. "But that doesn't really help."

The undertaker was already there, waiting. The men who had brought O'Brien in had gone straight to him; they had known as well as James and Julia that there was no hope for their coworker. The undertaker removed the body, and Julia cleaned up the room. She washed up at the sink and left the room quickly. It smelled of death.

James was in his office, seated behind the desk. His coat and vest were off and his sleeves rolled up high on his arms.

There was an open bottle of whiskey and a half-full glass before him. His elbows were planted on the desk, and he held his head between his hands, staring down at the desk.

"James?"

He looked up, his dark eyes old and sad. He tried to summon up a smile for her. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

He nodded. "I always hate to lose them." He paused and sighed. "Buddy O'Brien and I went to grade school together."

"I'm sorry." Julia's heart ached for him. He was such a good man, so kind.

"He married Frances Brewster. They have some kids." He rubbed his hands across his face. "Christ, Julie, he was only thirty-one, same as me."

Julia came quickly across the room to him, and he reached out and pulled her close, burying his face against her breasts. She encircled him with her arms and laid her cheek against the top of his head. "Oh, James, I know. I know how hard it is for you."

He squeezed her to him tightly, and for a long time they remained like that, drawing comfort from each other. Tenderly Julia stroked James's hair and kissed the top of his head. James didn't want to let her go; she gave him such warmth and strength. Here, like this with her, nothing in the world seemed so bad.

When, at last, he released her, James pulled her down into his lap and sat with his arms around her. Julia cuddled up against him, and they talked while he sipped his whiskey. They talked about all kinds of things—it didn't matter what—until at last the adrenaline and the sadness began to slip away.

"Thank you, Julia."

"For what?"

"For staying here with me. For giving me your comfort." He closed his eyes as though in pain, and his arms tightened around her. "Oh, God, Julie, I love you so much."

"And I love you."

"Not enough."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't love me enough to marry me."

"That's not why—"

"No? Then what is?"

"Oh, James, can't you understand? I've told you. I'm not the kind of person you should marry."

He laid his finger across her lips. "Don't you dare say you aren't good enough. Because you're ten times better than anyone I know, including me."

"I don't know how to act. I'd be an embarrassment to you. You don't think it would matter, but it would. I'd be an embarrassment to your mother. Everyone would gossip about your marrying me. They'd pity you."

"They'd envy me."

"They would not, and you know it. They'd talk about you. They would say I didn't belong, and they would speculate on how I snared you."

"Then you don't love me enough to face the gossip of a few old biddies?"

"It's not that! You shouldn't have to face it."

"But don't you see? I don't care about the gossip. I doubt I'll even bear half of it, and the rest I won't pay any attention to. I don't care what other people think. So what if they gossip? Let them. As long as I have you, they can talk themselves hoarse, for all I care."

"You would care, someday."

"When? When I'm ninety? Don't you know me any better than that? Don't you know who I am?"

"Of course I know you. You're the kindest, best—'

He took her face between his hands and held it still, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Do you honestly think I will be hurt by some gossip? That I would be embarrassed because some old ladies don't approve of me or what I've done?"

She gazed at him for a moment. "No."

"Do you think I'm so stupid that I don't know my own mind? So slow that at thirty-one I don't know what I want?"

She wet her lips. She tried to look away, but he wouldn't let her. "No."

"Then let me say it one more time. I want you. I don't want a woman who can make polite conversation at the table or who knows how to give a proper party. I don't give a damn if she eats with the wrong spoon, or with a knife, if that's what she likes. I want a woman who knows me, who loves me, who understands what happened tonight and how I felt about it. I want a woman I can share my life with, work, fun, and everything in between. What I need is what you gave me tonight—your understanding and your generous comfort."

"Any woman could —"

"No. You don't realize how special you are. Not any woman could have done what you did today—stand by my side in that room and face the blood and the death and then have the strength to come in here and comfort me. You're one of a kind, sweetheart. You're the only woman I want. In all my life I've never found another woman to compare with you. I've been so lonely without you, Julie. Please don't tell me I have to spend the rest of my life lonely."

"Oh, James." Julia's hand went up to his cheek, warm and loving. She had never thought of it this way before, that by not marrying James she was condemning him to a life of loneliness, that perhaps no other woman would suit him as she did. She had been too wrapped up in her own inadequacies and fears to see that she was hurting James. Her hand trembled against his cheek as she realized how willfully she was throwing away their chance at happiness.

"Marry me, Julia. Say you'll marry me."

She gazed at his beloved face. Tears welled in her eyes. "Yes," she said finally. "Yes, I'll marry you."