Ginny Aiken (13 page)

“Please don’t let it bother you. The compliments were sincere, Randy’s and mine. Especially mine.”

Letty’s gaze skittered up and at last met his. Eric enjoyed the shy delight he read there. Why did she affect him so strongly?

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Eric decided right then that he didn’t care why she affected him. He just knew she did and wished he had the right to pursue his interest. But he didn’t, and he had to put an end to it. Intending to release her, his fingers skimmed her jaw one more time.

Again she shimmered, but this time a responding tremor shook him. He tightened his hold on her hand, cursing his weakness.

“There you are, my dears,” said Mrs. Stone. “My husband is ready for the blessing. Come, I’ll show you to your table.”

Eric released her hand as if it were a hot cinder. His fingers felt scorched, singed.

Letty dropped her reticule. Thankful for something to do, he retrieved it. She took the purse, making sure they didn’t touch again.

Eric followed the women, refusing to let the appeal of Hartville’s new doctor capture him again. So focused was he on walking that he never noticed when Letty stopped. He bumped into her and instinctively wrapped his arms around her. The inadvertent embrace called forth the hunger he’d worked so hard to deny—comfort, companionship, love. No matter how
hard he fought his need, Eric still longed for love again. One that would last.

Letty groaned.

His voice cracked. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She pointed toward Mrs. Stone.

Their voices mingled. “Oh, no!”

7

Mrs. Stone stood proudly in front of a table set for two. Round tables large enough for six or eight were the norm elsewhere, and Eric winced at the blatant matchmaking.

He squeezed Letty’s shoulders. “There’s little we can do but humor her. It would be worse to say anything.”

“I—” She paused and straightened her back, obviously calling on a reserve of dignity. “I agree, and I apologize for the unfortunate situation. You likely had plans of your own. Please understand, this was not my doing.”

“Letty, look at me. There’s no question whose idea this is.”

“Thank you, Eric. I’ll try to make the evening as painless as possible.”

With a polite murmur for Mrs. Stone, Eric pulled out Letty’s chair. As he sat across from her, he sought her silver gaze. When she faced him, he said, “You’re not about to dose me with some insufferable remedy. We’re about to share a delightful meal. I, for one, anticipate a pleasant evening.”

She responded with a wry smile. “I’ve thanked and apologized a lot tonight. I’m not usually so awkward.”

“I know. You normally control every situation. It’s interesting to watch you when someone else is in control.”

“You are reprehensible, Mr. Wagner.”

“Perhaps, Dr. Morgan.”

“Most assuredly, sir.”

“Perhaps.”

Despite the inauspicious start, the evening went well. They enjoyed the tender roast, the well-seasoned vegetables, and the rich, sweet pie. As they savored fragrant cups of coffee, they noticed that other tables had been cleared away. People had broken off into groups, and Eric soon led Letty to a cluster of couples that included the Carlsons.

Randy bounded up. Eric thought her the least likely expectant mother, but Douglas had confided their news, and he had no reason to disbelieve his friend.

Randy shot Letty a sly glance. “I know. Why don’t we play charades? Letty said she loves the game.”

Letty groaned, suspecting more meddling.

“Oh, yes!” chimed a young lady, who winked at Randy.

Randy’s lips widened into a broad smile. “How about works of literature?”

A murmur of approval circled the group as a few others joined to play. Soon everyone had written a title on a slip of paper. One by one, the ladies made their choices. Letty was left for last.

When Randy held out the basket with the last slip of paper, Letty had good reason to mistrust the mischief in her friend’s eye. “You’re up to no good,” she whispered. “Again. Don’t think I won’t demand retribution.”

Randy giggled. “I’m sure you will, but first I’ll have my way.”

“That’s my fear.”

As Letty unfolded her slip, Eric leaned close. “What are you afraid of?”

Letty handed him the paper. “This.”

He frowned. “I have to speak to Douglas about his wife.”

“Not tonight.”

“True. Right now we can only hope for the best.”

Letty pointed at the title. “So how do you propose we perform
Romeo and Juliet
? Star-crossed lovers, no less.”

Eric’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitched, and Letty wondered what bothered him more, the embarrassing situation or the memory of his own star-crossed, lost love.

“They do expect us to play,” she added.

And they did, to the enjoyment of those present. With cheeks scorching, Letty stood, and Eric knelt at her feet, emulating the balcony scene. Silence flooded the room. Wishing herself anywhere on earth but in this crowded hall, the object of everyone’s scrutiny, Letty tried to gaze at anything but the man at her feet.

She took Eric’s hand, and the touch of skin against skin sent the now-familiar tingle up her arm. He, too, gazed at her, unrelenting, his eyes demanding her attention.

Silence enveloped the large hall. The atmosphere mellowed, grew richer, like the nap of velvet. Letty’s pulse beat a foreign rhythm; her lonely heart took solace in Eric’s nearness. How she wished this were real, that Eric truly longed for her, but they were playing a game; only a fool would believe a charade.

Sadness made Letty close her eyes. The silence changed. She tugged at her hand when the other players pretended not to guess, but Eric tightened his grip, making her face him again.

“Let’s just do the death scene and be done with it,” he muttered, his jaw more blunt than she’d yet seen it.

All Letty wanted was to reach the safety of her pink and white bedroom. The best remedy for her ruffled nerves was the comfort of thick blankets and her well-used Bible, but she had to see this through. Then she’d seek sanctuary. “All right.”

When he stood, she again glanced around the room. They’d attracted quite a crowd. Eric dragged two chairs into the circle around them, clattering through the expectant silence. He sat
and then gestured for her to take the seat at his side. She arranged her plum silk skirt and looked to him for further guidance.

To her dismay, he moved his chair closer, his solid arm against hers. He pointed to his shoulder, indicating she should place her head there.

“No,” she argued in a whisper.

“Let’s just finish.”

She peered at their audience. Mrs. Stone’s beaming smile made the decision for her. “Oh, go ahead.”

Eric pantomimed the taking of the poison.

Letty pretended to stab a dagger into her heart.

He flopped back in the chair, simulating death.

She held her breath and placed her cheek on Eric’s wool-covered shoulder. The impropriety distressed her even more.

She held the position for a second, long enough to feel Eric’s strength. His warmth seeped into her cheek, the spice of bay rum filled her senses, and longing stole into her heart.

Whispers rippled through the silence.

“What a lovely couple they make,” someone murmured.

Enough. She’d provided more than her share of entertainment. She stood.

“Romeo and Juliet,”
called Randy. Her contrite expression said she knew she’d gone too far.

“It’s late,” said Letty. “Especially for a doctor with patients to see in the morning.”

Polite assent circled the group. She bid all a goodnight and headed for the doors.

“Letty! Please wait.” Bustling to her side, the pastor’s wife cut off her exit.

“Yes, Mrs. Stone. How may I help you?”

“No, no, dear.
I
wish to help
you
. It’s cold outside and very dark. You mustn’t walk home alone. Who knows what might happen, what with all those saloons, billiard halls, and
other
establishments on East Crawford. One can’t be too cautious.”

“But that’s all at the far end of town—”

Ignoring Letty’s words and manacling her wrist, Mrs. Stone dragged her back to the circle of chairs. “Eric,” she called, and Letty wished to die. “You do have your carriage this evening, right? Please see Dr. Morgan home.”

Eric looked taken aback. Letty cringed. What could he be thinking? She lived only a two-minute stroll away from the church.

After a curt nod for the pastor’s wife, he said, “My pleasure.”

“It’s not necessary,” Letty objected.

Neither Eric nor Mrs. Stone paid her the least attention.

She marched toward the doors, retrieved her cape, and put it on. “You could have refused,” she told Eric through clenched teeth.

“Of course,” he answered, a similar tang to his words. “Then I would have had to explain to Mrs. Stone and the whole congregation why I refused to see a lady home. The lady with whom I’d just acted out that stupid charade.”

In the ensuing silence, they walked to Letty’s house, neither willing to risk the intimacy of Eric’s rig. The temperature had dropped since the afternoon, and patches of ice lurked everywhere. Letty kept her gaze on the ground, afraid of what she might see in his face. Pristine snow glistened in the moonlight, sparkling more than the stars in the jet sky.

“Letty?”

“Yes,” she said, then her feet hit ice and flew out from under her. She wasn’t surprised—her world had tilted so far off balance that evening. The surprise came when strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.

The moon, full and round and pouring silver over the earth, glazed them with its luster, while elsewhere shadows shrouded corners in mystery. Silence swelled around them.

“Letty.” Eric whispered this time.

She met his gaze, and her last scrap of sanity vanished. He touched her lips with his and spun her into a world she’d never known existed.

Without taking his lips from hers, Eric cupped her face and threaded his fingers into her hair. Letty’s pins slipped out.

The kiss went on, and on, and on.

Slowly, gently, he released her. Her eyes fluttered open. He reached for her hands and lowered them to her sides.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice a rough croak. “Go home. You’re almost there.”

His abrupt withdrawal hurt. Letty stood in the frigid night, unable to speak, unable to move. He walked away.

She heard his low, heartfelt curse.

In the days after the disastrous church social, Letty was so busy she had no time to think of Eric, much less remember their kiss.

One unusually quiet morning found her wondering what to do with her maturing chicks. Each time she entered the kitchen, the birds chased after her, pecking at the hem of her skirt. Too often they landed nips on her ankles.

“More’s the pity I can’t see you in my roaster as dinner,” she muttered, “no matter how unruly you are.”

As she stared at the fortunate fowl, a pounding at the door startled her. Glad for the distraction, she went to respond.

“Mrs. Stone! Are you hurt? Ill? Is the pastor well?”

“I’m fine, dear. It’s Elsa Richards who needs your help. The baby’s not coming as quickly as it should. We must hurry.”

Letty grabbed her bag and her ulster. “Let’s be on our way.”

Outside, Mrs. Stone hoisted her rotund body into the carriage and sat next to her husband. Letty wedged herself into the remaining space.

“You have no vehicle yet, do you, Dr. Morgan?” the pastor asked once the horse had resumed its pace.

“No, my savings are nearly depleted. And please, I’m Letty.”

Mrs. Stone weighed in. “I understood Eric had an unused buggy and was buying you a horse.”

“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable.”

Pastor Stone cast her a shrewd look.

Mrs. Stone frowned. “Pray tell, why?”

“A single woman has no business accepting valuable gifts from a gentleman.”

“Bosh, my dear,” Mrs. Stone countered, patting Letty’s hand. “No one could see it as a gift. Eric just wants to provide for our new doctor’s needs.”

Letty found no guile in the pastor’s wife. “Perhaps you would see no impropriety,” she said, “but others would. What good would I be to the town then?”

Mrs. Stone weighed the thought. “I understand your wish to remain above reproach, but think, dear. What would you have done today if we hadn’t been on our way to the Richards’s farm? Elsa’s labor began yesterday, and Peter says the baby is breech.”

Letty remembered Eric’s warning when she treated Daisy. He’d said her actions on Daisy’s behalf could cost her patients, and he’d urged her to guard her reputation. In her opinion the two situations were different. She could control the spread of gossip about her and Eric and no one would be hurt in the process, but if she refused to treat someone because others objected to the life he or she led, that patient could die. Letty couldn’t take that risk.

But her refusal of Eric’s generosity could endanger innocent lives, too. “You’re right, Mrs. Stone. I put my own concerns before my patients’ needs. I’m sorry.”

The older woman patted Letty’s hand. “Don’t fret. This is easily fixed. You only need to accept Eric’s offer.”