Twice Blessed (17 page)

Noah started to speak, but she held up her hand to silence him. There was one more thing she had to know.

“Why did you take it, Sean? Did you think it was pretty?”

“It's made of gold,” he answered lowly. “I know gold is worth a lot of money. I thought I might be able to sell it to someone and buy a train ticket.”

Emma feared her heart was going to break in her chest. She had not guessed Sean wanted to return to his life in New York. “If you're so unhappy here, you only needed to tell me, and I would have contacted the Children's Aid Society. They would have arranged for you to go back east.”

“Me go back?” He shook his head. “I don't want to go back there. I wanted to get money to buy a ticket for my little sister to come here. I miss her. I figured you might let her stay with us for a while.” He lowered his eyes again. “Now you probably want to send me packing.”

She struggled to speak past the tears clogging her throat. When Noah's hand settled on her shoulder, she glanced up at him again. The anger was gone from his face, replaced by compassion.

“Sean,” she said, “I don't want to send you back. Not ever. This is your home, and we're going to be a family, if you wish.” She caught another tear before it could roll along his face. “And I can contact the Children's Aid Society to find out about your sister.”

“Will you?”

“Yes, but you must not steal again. Not from me or from Noah or from anyone. Not ever. Do you understand?”

“And then you won't make me go back?”

“No matter what you say, no matter what you do, I shall not send you back. Not ever. Do you understand that?”

“Yes … Emma.” His voice broke on her name.

She pulled him into her arms and held him as he sobbed. Leaning her cheek against the top of his head, she fought her own tears. Noah stroked her hair, and she looked up at him.

It was a beginning. A small one, but a beginning just the same. Maybe Sean—and Noah—would trust her with the truth. She closed her eyes and bent to press her cheek to Sean's head once more. They might trust her, but she could never trust them with the truth of her past.

Not ever.

Belinda bounced into the store, calling Sean's name. He burst out from behind the counter, then paused as he looked back.

“Go and play ball on the green!” Emma waved them both out the door. “I think I can handle the store by myself this afternoon.”

Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked out from behind the counter, too. Sean had missed having Belinda around when Noah had moved his family back out to the farm. Knowing the truth now, Emma suspected Sean was letting Belinda replace—temporarily—the little sister who was left behind in New York.

The letter she had written to the Children's Aid Society should have reached New York by now, but she was not sure how long it would take the Society to respond. She had cautioned Sean to have patience. Each time mail was dropped off at the railroad station, he had stood close by as she sorted it and put it in the proper cubbyholes. There were two dozen niches, each one labeled with a name belonging to a family in Haven. Those who lived outside of town could find their mail in the box she kept locked beneath the counter.

There had been no answer from the Society … yet.

Going to the door, Emma leaned one shoulder on the frame as she watched the children chase a ball around the green. The open area was finally deserving of its name. Leaves were bursting out on the trees, giving them a soft green fuzz at the end of each branch. Grass was beginning to grow. Later in the spring, the ladies of the Haven Improvement Committee would plant flowers in the concrete boxes on either side of the old cannon.

Steps climbed up onto the porch. She turned, smiling. “Mr. Atherton, how are you on this lovely afternoon?”

The man, whom she had bumped into with her umbrella during the rain, tipped his hat to her. He was dressed, as he had been each time she had seen him, in an impeccable gray coat and trousers. His vest had a narrow white stripe that set off the spats over his polished shoes. With his blond hair smoothed stylishly back, he seemed to belong in a big city like Louisville instead of backwater Haven. She had heard he was a friend of the Smith family who lived out of town about a mile east. That neighborly connection had soothed her disquiet about why he was here.

“It
is
a lovely afternoon, Miss Delancy.” He glanced into the shadowed store. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” She stepped inside and asked, “How can I help you?”

“I'm looking for tobacco for my pipe.”

“There's some on the third shelf to the left. If you don't find the type you like, let me know. The Grangers are planning to finalize their spring order to Montgomery Ward & Company this evening.”

He took down a jar of shredded tobacco, opened it, and took a sniff. Setting it back on the shelf, he said, “I'm surprised you sound so pleased about that, Miss Delancy. What they order from that mail order company, they don't buy from you.”

“I buy from Montgomery Ward & Company, too, both for me and for the store. Not everyone can afford to order when the Grange sends in its order and pays cash. At the store, they can buy and pay me when the crops are harvested.”

“I see.” Opening another jar, he took a sniff and smiled. “I'd like some of this.”

She took the jar to the counter where she could measure out what he wanted. “How much?”

“What's left in the jar would be fine.”

Weighing the tobacco, she put it into a bag and handed it to him. He dug a handful of small coins out of his pocket. Setting them on the counter, he said, “I've heard that you steadied many nervous souls during the recent flooding.”

“There weren't many nervous souls.” She smiled. “We've become accustomed to the river's moods.”

“Odd, for I heard you saved several lives. A whole family who was in danger on their farm.”

She laughed. “Tales get exaggerated. My wagon brought all of us into Haven. We were fortunate that the bridge was still passable. Noah deserves as much credit for getting us here as I do.”

“Noah?”

“Noah Sawyer. It was his family that was nearly trapped out on their farm.”

Mr. Atherton's face lengthened, making him look like the hound whose name he shared. “That must have been frightening for all of you. How did you all manage to fit in one wagon?”

“Noah had his horse, and I drove the wagon with his housekeeper and the children.”

“His children?”

“His daughter and the boy who is living with me since he arrived on the orphan train.” She walked back to the door and laughed as she watched Belinda trying to catch Sean, who stayed just out of her reach. “As you can see, no harm came to them. We were lucky.”

“Yes, I'd say you have been very, very lucky.” He put the packet in his pocket. “You could have been caught in the high waters and washed away.” He tipped his hat to her as he stepped outside. “Thank you, Miss Delancy.”

“Mr. Atherton?”

“Yes?” He paused on the steps to the street.

“Will you be staying in Haven long? I can order some more of the tobacco to have here for you if you are going to be visiting for a while.”

He smiled. “I'll let you know, Miss Delancy. Right now, I think I shall be leaving shortly. I have some business to tend to north of here. Good afternoon.”

Looking once at the children to be certain they were not thinking up some trouble, Emma went back into the store. The train had come in today, so she had some crates to unpack so Sean could break them up for firewood. The boy had proven he knew how to use a hatchet with care, and he had been delighted when she gave him the job of chopping up boxes.

She heard footfalls, but did not have to turn to identify this patron. Her ears sought for the sound of those steps all day long, and the echo played through her dreams at night.

She smiled. “Good afternoon, Noah. I thought you might be in today.”

“Why?”

“Grange meeting is tonight.”

He regarded her with bafflement. “I'm not a member of the Haven Grange.”

“That's a surprise. I thought all the farmers along the river were members.”

“I'm not really a farmer, so I never gave it much thought.”

“But the Grange gives all of us a sense of community here in Haven.” She smiled. “Maybe a lot like what those folks out at River's Haven have. I'm obviously not a farmer either, but I enjoy the meetings and the gatherings. We have dances and singalongs. You should come sometime and bring Belinda and Gladys.”

“Maybe one of these days. Right now, I'm busy with Belinda and trying to fix up the buildings on the farm.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “What is left of them.” He tossed his hat onto the rocking chair and walked to where she stood. Tugging her into his arms, he said, “Good afternoon, sweetheart.”

She laughed. “You're supposed to say that when you come into the store, not now.”

“But it is a good afternoon.” His voice dropped to a rasping whisper. “Do you want to make it a better afternoon?”

“What do you have in mind?”

He laughed. “I don't think you want me to talk about that right here in the middle of your store. Maybe I should just show you.”

“All right. You show me, and I'll let you know if it made my afternoon better.”

“A challenge? You're going to like this.”

“Will I?” She smiled up at him as she locked her fingers together behind his nape.

He put one finger under her chin. Tilting her mouth toward his, he whispered, his breath warming her lips, “I think you're really going to like this.”

She thrilled in the eagerness in his kiss. She had dreamed of his tongue grazing her lips, of his strong hands on her. Waking in the middle of the night, covered with sweat, her body aching for him, she had yearned for this.

But no dream was as splendid as this. As he drew her even closer, her hands glided up his back. She wanted—she needed—to savor his strength.

“So what do you think?” he murmured.

“I like this.”

“What about this?”

Her teasing reply became an uneven gasp when his hand rose from her waist to cup her breast. His thumb grazed its very tip, and she melted against him, wanting this and so much more. When his hand curved up along her in a lingering caress, she moaned against his mouth, which claimed hers once more.

He drew back, his breath as frayed as hers. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

“I …” She looked past him.

Noah released Emma's hands as she went to wait on Mrs. Randolph. The old woman must not have noticed them, because all her questions were about whether her newspaper had arrived on this morning's train. Opening the stairwell door, Emma retrieved the newspaper and sent her out onto the porch to read it.

“You keep the mail in the stairwell?” Noah asked as he walked over to the counter.

“Now that Mr. Baker has left, I might as well use it for storage.”

“Baker left? When?”

“Just as the rivers started rising. He said he'd had enough of these floods, and he wanted to go somewhere else. He has family up in Wisconsin, I think. He was eager to go. I think he had work waiting for him, because he told me to keep the furniture upstairs. He said he'd buy new when he got there.” She shook her head. “There may be furniture up there. All I could see when I went up were piles of papers. Newspapers and sheets that were so yellowed I doubt they even could be read any longer.”

Putting his hands on her waist, he picked her up and sat her on the counter. He wanted to fall into the heated warmth of her green eyes and lose himself in her forever. Her voice vanished beneath his mouth as he explored her succulent lips. They softened beneath his, and he stepped closer. When he held her, he yearned to explore every facet of the fire glowing in her eyes.

As her fingers moved in a meandering path up his arms and across his back, the answering response rushed all along him. His own fingers stroked her soft breasts and the curve of her gently rounded hips. When she gasped into his mouth, he was sure her breath would set his very soul on fire. Through her skirt, her legs pressed against him in an invitation to share the pleasure. He drew her to him until he could feel the pounding of her heart, which matched the throb aching through him.

He did not speak the curse stealing his rapture away as he heard someone step up onto the porch. Reverend Faulkner, he knew when he heard the minister talking with Mrs. Randolph. He looked back at Emma and said, “Your store is too busy.”

“You could help me down,” she said, her tone sharp, but her eyes still dazed from his touch.

“I could.” He leaned one hand next to her on the counter as he drawled, “Or I could tell the shopkeeper I'd like some more of what I just sampled.”

“If you don't help me down, the only way you'll sample more is by placing an order with some out-of-town distributor.”

Grasping her at the waist again, he set her on her feet. He did not move back, so she was still caught between him and the counter. He framed her face with his hands as he murmured, “I prefer what I've found here in Haven to anything from out of town.”

“Emma, where are you?” called the minister from the door.

Although he did not want to, Noah stepped aside. He chuckled under his breath as Emma tried to jab her hairpins back in place. Her hair had been delightfully tousled before he drew her into his arms. Knowing that the minister could not see what he was doing, he reached up and loosened a strand to fall down her back. His finger followed its silken stream, and she quivered at his touch.

“Here—” Her voice squeaked, and she shot Noah a glare before saying, “I'm over here, Reverend.”

“There you are. Takes longer every year for these eyes to adjust from the sunlight. Who's that? Ah, Noah, just the man I wanted to see.” Reverend Faulkner wove his way through the store as if he were being bounced about like the children's ball.