Justin's Bride (13 page)

“You don't have to do this.”

“I want to.” She took two steps, then turned and grabbed the clothing. “On second thought, I'll keep these here.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm going to keep Bonnie with me today.”

He shoved his hat back on his head and drew his eyebrows together. “No, you're not.”

“Oh?” She smiled sweetly. “What are you going to do with her while you're working?”

“I...”

She waited. He glanced at the little girl who was sitting on the floor whispering secrets to her new doll.

“I...” He muttered something under his breath. She thought he might be swearing. That thought perked up her spirits considerably. “All right, but just for today. I'll come get her at closing.”

“Oh, thank you, Justin. How gracious you are.”

He glared at her.

She laughed, then held out her hand to Bonnie. “Come on. Let's look for some new shoes. We'll see you later, Justin.”

Bonnie waved her new doll and trotted along obediently. When Megan reached the curtain dividing the front of the store from the back, she wanted to turn around, but she didn't. It would spoil the effect. Besides, she knew Justin was fuming and that was enough for her.

* * *

Justin came through the bare trees just as the last curve of the sun dipped below the horizon. It had been another day of mild weather. Winter was almost over. He could see the small buds on some of the bushes, and the first leaves daring to make their appearance.

He paused in the clearing and stared at the lone three-story house perched at the top of the rise. Light twinkled from behind curtained windows, casting a welcoming glow onto the porch. How many times had he stood here and stared at that house, like a starving man hungering for food? How many nights had he listened to the sound of the family within, knowing they possessed a magic of belonging he could never understand?

He approached the front porch, but hesitated before climbing the three steps up to the door. Megan waited for him. She'd left word at the store that she'd taken Bonnie to the house to try on clothes and for him to come along when he was able. Andrew had spoken the message in a normal tone of voice, allowing whoever was within earshot to hear.

Justin told himself it didn't mean anything. Megan hadn't changed and she wasn't going to change. She would always worry about her reputation. He shouldn't allow himself to hope, to believe there could ever be anything between them. The young man who had promised her forever didn't exist anymore. They were different people, strangers, really, and the past was simply a collection of what-should-have-beens.

He shook off the fanciful thoughts. They were the product of a too-long day after a night of little sleep. He would collect Bonnie and return to the hotel. Nothing more. He was here about the child, not about the woman.

That didn't stop the anticipation from coiling low in his belly as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

She opened it before he had a chance to rap a second time.

“Justin,” she whispered and held a finger to her mouth. “Shh. Bonnie's sleeping.” She stepped back and motioned for him to come in.

When he was inside, she closed the door quietly behind him, then reached for the hat he'd automatically removed. She held out her hand for his coat. He shrugged out of it, then wondered if he should tell her he wasn't staying. Before he could decide, she led him toward the parlor.

The room was still full of too much furniture. Chairs and tables crowded together. On the settee closest to the fireplace, he saw Bonnie curled up asleep. A light blanket covered her to her shoulders. The kitten he'd brought Megan slept by the girl's feet. One of Bonnie's hands was tucked under her cheek, the other held her precious corn-husk doll. On the table in front of her, clothes had been stacked into neat piles.

“Isn't she sweet?” Megan asked quietly.

He glanced at the woman standing beside him. A fire flickered behind the grate, providing warmth and the only light in the room. Since his return, he'd only seen her with her hair pinned back in a respectably plain style. Tonight she wore her hair in a loose braid, with gold-blond strands drifting across her cheek. Her green dress brought out the matching color in her hazel eyes. Something was different. He frowned. Softer, maybe.

It might be the edge of lace at the collar of her dress, or the fact that she didn't seem to be wearing as many petticoats. She looked relaxed, even content. He envied her that.

“Justin?”

Her voice caught on his name. Instantly, his gaze locked on her mouth. Her full lower lip quivered slightly. He remembered how she'd tasted when he'd kissed her. Was it just two days ago? He felt as if he'd been back a lifetime. What was it about Megan Bartlett that made him forget? Why did she have to be the one who turned his head? She was determined to live a respectable life. To her, he would only ever be that bastard Justin Kincaid. They had nothing together.

“Let's let her sleep,” he whispered, then headed for the hallway.

Megan followed him. “I tried to keep her awake, but she just nodded off,” she said as they paused by the front door. “We've had a busy day.”

“It looks like it.”

She held her hands together in front of her waist. “I've roasted a chicken. Will you stay to supper?”

One persistent strand of hair brushed against her temple. She reached up and tucked it behind her ear. He reached toward her and fingered the loose hair on her shoulders.

“You aren't so tidy tonight.”

“I know.” She glanced down. He thought he saw a faint blush on her cheeks. The color made her skin glow. “We were playing with her doll and Bonnie asked if she could brush my hair. She said she used to brush her mother's. It seemed like a small thing, really.” Her gaze flickered over him. “She wanted to do my hair in a braid.” She raised her hands to her braid and pulled it over her shoulder. After glancing at the uneven sections, she smiled. “I know I look a mess.”

“No,” he said, tucking another strand behind her ear. “Not at all. You look...” Perfect, he thought, but he couldn't tell her that. She stared at him so earnestly, as if his comment were the most important in the world. As if her life hung in the balance. As if she still cared. But she couldn't. He'd thought she had, once. He'd been wrong. “You look fine.”

“Oh.” Her head dipped toward her chest. “So you'll stay?”

He shouldn't. Eating with her would bring the ghosts to life. But he was too tired to resist her. He would be strong another time.

“Sure.”

Her brilliant smile caught him like a sharp blow to the belly, but it didn't blind him to the truth. Megan was trouble for him. She always had been, she always would be.

She led the way into the kitchen. A large black stove dominated one wall. The smell of cooking chicken and potatoes made him swallow. He realized he hadn't stopped for dinner at noon. Breakfast had been biscuits and coffee while he'd watched Bonnie consume enough flapjacks to feed three farmhands.

“It'll just be a few minutes,” she said, walking toward the counter. “I've already mixed up the biscuits. I just have to bake them.” She picked up a thick towel and opened the oven door. After carefully pulling out a large baking dish filled with the chicken and potatoes, she set it to one side, then put the biscuits in their place.

She dropped the towel next to the dish and walked over to the kitchen table. Stacks of clothes covered the wooden surface. She scooped them up and dumped them on two chairs.

“I'll get you coffee,” she said, pulling out an empty chair that faced the rest of the kitchen. “Sorry this is such a mess. Bonnie and I spent our afternoon in the attic, going through clothes. There were several things from when Colleen and I were little. Dresses, a couple of pairs of shoes. Even dolls, although she likes her corn-husk doll better than any of them.”

Justin took the seat she offered. He stretched his feet out in front of him and rested his hands on the table. “I don't think Colleen is going to approve of Bonnie's wearing her old things.”

“I know.” Megan gave him a quick smile. “But I don't care. She wouldn't use them for her own daughter. When I offered, she said she'd rather buy all new. It's a waste, if you ask me. I'm glad Bonnie can use them.”

As she spoke, she moved efficiently around the kitchen, getting a mug out of one of the cupboards, pouring the coffee, setting it in front of him, then walking to the buffet next to the table and pulling out a tablecloth. She flipped up the cream-colored fabric and let it fall neatly in place. Before he'd stirred sugar into his cup, she'd placed a napkin, knife and fork beside the mug. She did the same at her place setting, then returned to the counter and started carving the chicken.

“You act like you've spent time in this kitchen,” he said.

“Of course. Did you think I had a cook?”

“Your father did.”

She shrugged. He liked the way her quick movement drew the back of her dress up slightly, molding it around her behind. Her lower half wasn't as curvy as her upper half, but there was plenty there to squeeze, he thought, then grinned. Megan was all friendly and open. She'd shut up quick enough if she knew what he was thinking.

When she turned to glance at him over her shoulder, he looked down at his coffee.

“I pensioned her off when Papa died. It was silly to have live-in help for just me.”

“And the maid?”

Megan chuckled. “She's gone, too, although I admit I have a lady in twice a week to clean and I send out the laundry. By the time I get finished with the store, I'm too tired to dust. Colleen is scandalized by the whole thing. She thinks I should hire a manager to take care of the store. The trouble is, I don't know what I would do with my day then. I like working.”

“Colleen is a—”

“Justin.”

“Yeah, I know. She's your sister.”

She wiped her hands on a towel, then moved to the oven and opened the door. “About five minutes.” She walked to the table and sat across from him. “You look tired. Did you have a difficult day?”

“You could say that,” he answered, trying to ignore the domestic nature of their evening. He was sitting in her kitchen answering questions about his day. As if they'd done this a thousand times before. Or maybe it was familiar because he'd imagined his life with Megan being made up of moments like these. His fantasies about her hadn't all been hot images of her naked beneath him. Some had been quiet. Loving. They'd all been unrealistic, he reminded himself.

“You didn't find out anything about Bonnie's mother?”

“No. Everyone claims they never knew the woman. A few even admitted it's no great loss that she's gone. Mrs. Greeley wanted to know why I'm wasting my time with the investigation.”

“I'm sorry.”

She placed her hands flat on the tablecloth and leaned forward. Several strands of hair fell around her cheeks. She brushed them back impatiently. Her heart-shaped face was as beautiful as he remembered, her skin clear, her eyes large and expressive. He could read her sincerity in their depths. Suddenly, the need to talk to someone who would listen overwhelmed him. There was no one else he could trust.

“Colleen made good on her threat,” he told her. “Before I could even ask, just about every woman I spoke to told me she wouldn't take Bonnie in. Some couple with a small farm on the edge of town said they had room if they got paid enough.” He shook his head. “Doesn't anyone in this town give a damn?”

“I do. I'll take her, Justin. I would have this morning, but you wouldn't give me a chance.”

“No.”

“Why? You're being unfair. Do you think because I live alone I don't have the womanly skills to provide a home for Bonnie?”

“It's not that.” He grabbed his mug and traced a circle on the cloth. He could smell the faint fragrance of rose water. Megan used it to rinse her hair. He studied her dress. The green calico complemented her coloring, but it wasn't an extravagance. Despite the warmth of the kitchen, she hadn't unbuttoned even one tiny button on her collar or turned up her cuffs. She wore less petticoats but would never consider not wearing them at all. The only thing out of place was her mussed hair. From the top of her head down to her sensible buttoned shoes, she was respectable.

He'd spoken to the citizens of this town. If they were so uncharitable about a child, imagine what they would do to Megan if she flouted convention. He'd always mocked her fears of what others might think. For the first time, he began to see the power they wielded in Landing.

“It wouldn't look right,” he said.

“What? It wouldn't look right?” She stood up and grabbed the towel, then pulled the biscuits out of the oven. They were perfectly browned. She served the rest of the meal. “Did someone hit you on the head? The Justin Kincaid
I
know wouldn't give a...a...”

He raised his eyebrows.

She plopped a full plate down in front of him and placed her hands on her hips. “A darn about how it looked.”

“Maybe I'm learning.”

“I don't mind,” she said, serving herself. “I like Bonnie.”

“I know, but I'll keep her.”

“It looks less right for you to have her than for me.”

“I don't care what they say about me, Megan. I've heard it all before. They can't hurt me.”

“They can't hurt me, either.”

He picked up his fork and smiled. “You never were much of a liar.”

* * *

“So tell me what's different from what you remember,” she said as she picked up his empty plate. He started to stand up to help her, but she waved him back down. “Sit. You're my guest. I don't get many of them anymore, so I'm having fun.” She grinned. “Plus, we ate in the kitchen. That's scandalous enough without you cleaning up the dishes, too. So how has Landing changed?”