Justin's Bride (18 page)

“You would tempt a saint,” he murmured.

She almost didn't catch the words. When she did, it took a moment for them to sink in. Her ill temper extinguished as quickly as it had flared. Justin was certainly no saint. He was the best kind of sinner.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

In the center of the clearing, Mr. Greeley called, “Go!”

The straggly line of children began to move forward. Bonnie was on the end closest to them. Megan smiled as she watched her. Bonnie held the spoon out in front of her. The egg wobbled back and forth with each step, but didn't fall. Megan laughed.

“Good for you, Bonnie!” she called. The girl looked up and grinned.

“Is she winning?” Justin asked without opening his eyes. He bent his arms at the elbow and rested his head on his hands.

“No, but she's having fun. Go to sleep.”

He mumbled something and sighed deeply.

Megan ignored the temptingly masculine picture he made and looked back at the racers. The first accident had already occurred with one of the children tripping and dropping his egg. Bits of shell and yolk scattered everywhere. A couple of the little girls shrieked and jumped out of the way. Bonnie glanced at the commotion, but kept going forward. Parents started standing up and cheering.

A girl of four or five dropped her egg, splattering her white dress. She promptly sat down and started to cry. Her older brother swerved over to talk to her. He got in the way of another child who tripped and, on the way down, bumped a little boy in short pants out of the race. The boy struggled to stay on his feet. His egg teetered precariously before slowly rolling off the edge of his spoon and dropping directly on top of Gene Estes's polished black shoes.

Megan clamped her hand over her mouth to hold in her chuckle of amusement. She glanced around at the crowd, but everyone's attention was focused on the crying little girl and the fallen boy next to her. Megan looked back at Gene.

Her eyes widened with disbelief. Her brother-in-law, the admired minster of the town of Landing, grabbed the boy by his arm and scolded him. She couldn't hear the words, but he pointed to his shoes and shook the child. There was something tight and ugly in the man's face. He turned his head as if trying to see who was watching, then backhanded the boy across the face. The child fell to the ground, too stunned to cry. Gene said something else, then walked away.

Megan stared at the child, then at her brother-in-law. He was standing beside Colleen and calmly wiping his shoes. As she watched, he even smiled. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't hit the child. No one else seemed to have noticed. She returned her attention to the boy. He'd started to cry and ran over to his mother. Megan didn't recognize her. She must be one of the new settlers, a farmer's wife. She had probably been in the general store, but Megan didn't know her name.

The boy rubbed the side of his face, then pointed to the minister. The mother frowned. She shook her head and grabbed the boy by the ear, pulling him away.

“She doesn't believe him,” Megan said.

“Who doesn't believe whom?” Justin asked, his voice sounding sleepy.

She rose to her knees. “That woman. She doesn't believe what her son is telling her, but I saw him.”

Justin yawned and raised himself on one elbow. “Saw what?”

“A boy dropped his egg on Gene's shoes. Gene scolded him, then hit him across the face with the back of his hand. He knocked the boy down, then calmly walked away as if nothing had happened. When the boy tried to tell his mother, she didn't believe him.”

Justin frowned. “I understand his being upset about the raw egg, but that reaction seems a little harsh for our esteemed man of God.”

“I agree.” Megan stood up and looked around the crowd. She wanted to find that mother and tell her the boy wasn't lying. She started in the direction they'd gone.

“Megan, Justin, I got a ribbon!” Bonnie came running across the field holding a scrap of white ribbon in her hands.

“Good for you,” Justin said, smiling as she approached. “Third place. That's wonderful. There were lots of kids bigger than you.”

“I know.” She quivered with pride. “I got a ribbon.”

Megan bent down and gave her a hug. “I'm very proud of you, Bonnie. I saw how you concentrated on the race when other children were distracted by what was going on.”

Bonnie grinned. “I'm gonna be in the sack race next. This time I'm going to win!” She pressed the ribbon into Megan's hand, then took off running, back to the center of the field.

“Is that them?” Justin asked, pointing.

Megan turned and saw a wagon driving away. She recognized the boy in the back and nodded. “Yes. The next time they come into town, I'm going to tell that woman what really happened.” She glared at her brother-in-law. But he was across the crowded lawn and didn't even notice. “I can't believe he did that.” She sat back down under the tree.

Justin flopped down next to her and picked up a piece of grass. “Believe it,” he said, and started chewing on the short stalk. “People are basically bad.”

“You can't mean that.”

“No? Look at what just happened. Gene slapped a kid and no one will believe the boy.”

“That's different. Gene is a minister. He's not supposed to behave that way.”

“People always act worse than you think they're going to. That's what I've learned.”

She shifted against the bark of the tree. The scent of springtime drifted to her. The grass and flowers, the lingering smell of fried chicken and stew, of biscuits and ale from some barrel down by the stream. The calls of the children, the buzz of flies and conversation. It was all so normal.

“I refuse to think the world is a bad place.”

“It's not the world, it's everyone in it.”

“You're a cynic.”

“You're too innocent.”

He lay next to her on the blanket, his long lean body stretched out, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. She was between him and the crowd on the lawn. She felt a faint tug on her sleeve. He pulled her hand down between them and covered it with his own.

She'd turned her wrist so they were palm to palm and their fingers laced. Only then did she think she probably should have pulled back rather than allow him the liberty. It wasn't safe. Then she leaned her head back and stared at the perfect Kansas sky. She was tired of doing the right thing. The right thing left her feeling alone.

“There's no news on Bonnie's family,” Justin said, breaking into her thoughts.

“I didn't know you'd been checking.”

“I promised her I would.”

Justin's word meant everything, she thought sadly. When he made a promise, he kept it. Unlike herself. She'd given her word, then gone back on it.

“I've sent telegrams to several towns, but I'm beginning to wonder if Laurie Smith was her mother's real name.”

“It would be easy to change it and start over,” she said.

“Not as easy as you would think.”

She glanced down at Justin, but his eyes were closed. If not for the thumb rubbing along the back of her hand, she might have thought he was asleep. “Did you try to start over?”

“Sure. And look where I ended up.”

“Landing's not so bad.”

“Maybe not for you. But for Bonnie and that boy Gene slapped, it's not perfect.”

“I know it's not perfect, it's just...” She shook her head. Why was she defending this town? She had her own troubles, trying to find a balance between being respectable and living her life. As she grew older, she found she wanted more. Seven years ago, everything had been so clear. Now she wasn't sure.

She watched the children line up for the sack race. Bonnie looked over at her and grinned. Megan waved. Sunlight caught the child's long dark hair, making it shine. Bonnie grabbed the edge of the sack and pulled it up to her chest. Her chin thrust out in determination.

Bonnie was six. Megan bit her lower lip. She could have had a child that age. If she'd married Justin and gone away with him. What would have happened to them? Her father would have disowned her. Colleen, as well. At seventeen she hadn't been able to imagine a worse fate. Better to live out her days alone than risk her family's and the town's disapproval.

Now she wasn't so sure. She looked at the man lying next to her, at the slow rise and fall of his chest and the lean length of his body. She thought about his gentle smiles and the way he took care of Bonnie. She thought about the way he ignored the conventions of the day and did what
he
thought was best.

Falling in love with Justin all those years ago had been the most wonderfully terrifying experience of her life. Seven years later, she was grown up enough to admit that if she had it to do over again, she would go with him this time. But the Justin who had loved her enough to want to marry her no longer existed. The man who had taken his place might have feelings for her, but he would never forgive her the betrayal and pain she'd inflicted on him. He would never trust her enough to fall in love with her again, no matter how much she might want him to.

J
ustin braced the railing between his knees and pounded in the nails. The sound echoed in the crisp spring morning. After a few seconds, the front door of the house opened and Mrs. Dobson stepped out onto the porch. She clutched a shawl around her ample chest. The knitted wool was a pale shade of pink.

“What's that racket? Justin Kincaid, are you the one making all that noise? Do you know what time it is? How do you expect a body to sleep with you pounding away like the devil himself?”

“Morning, ma'am,” Justin said, and grinned. He bent over and picked up the top railing. After balancing it in his arms, he heaved it up high and dropped it into place.

“You didn't answer my questions.”

“I'm fixing your fence. A while back, you said it had fallen down in the winter.”

She walked to the edge of the porch. “Why are you doing that?”

“Just being neighborly.”

“I might be old, but I'm not foolish. You're the sheriff. You don't have time to be mending fences. Why aren't you off making our town safe for decent citizens?”

He wiped his hand across his forehead. “Landing seems plenty safe for decent citizens, ma'am. It's everyone else who has to worry.”

“You're talking about that dance-hall girl, aren't you?” The older woman sighed. “It's a shame about her. But you still haven't told me why you're bothering with my fence.”

He adjusted his hat, then picked up the next railing. “It needed doing. Besides, if it wasn't for you, Bonnie would have been turned away last Sunday. I'm grateful for what you did.”

She tisked, but he could have sworn he saw a faint blush on her cheeks. “Just doing what I think's right. You eat yet?”

“No, ma'am.”

“When you get done with that racket, you come inside here. I'll make some breakfast.” She walked across the porch and opened the door, then turned back to him. “But don't you go around mentioning this to anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold. I don't want people gossiping that I'm entertaining a young man in my house.”

He grinned. “I won't say a word.”

It took him about a half hour to finish mending Mrs. Dobson's fence. He washed up at the pump in her yard, then straightened his shirt and climbed the stairs to her front door. After a quick knock, he stepped inside. The house was small, but surprisingly bright. Lace curtains hung at the windows. Little china figurines and picture frames sat on small tables. He edged around them, trying not to bump anything, and made his way to the kitchen.

The smell of bacon, ham and baking bread greeted him. There were two place settings on the small table, and a hot cup of coffee.

“That's yours,” she said, motioning to the mug. “Drink it while it's still steaming. I'm glad you washed outside. I don't want some man's dirt in the same sink as my dishes.”

He took a seat and eyed the widow. Something was different about her. Something that—He grinned. “Why, Mrs. Dobson, I admire your shawl. It's a pretty shade of pink,” he said meaningfully.

The woman spun toward him. Her bright green eyes widened. She glanced from the offending shawl to him and back. Then she smiled. “It's been more than ten years since Mr. Dobson went to his reward. I thought it was time for a little color.”

“I would say so.”

“Some folks would be surprised if they knew I was thinking of ending my mourning.”

He nodded slowly. “Not as surprised as they would be if they knew how you'd helped my mother.”

She stared at him. “Imagine the talk if people realize you're keeping company with Megan.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

“You were holding hands. Don't deny it. I was there Sunday, young man, and I have eyes.”

“Sharp ones.”

She checked the food, then turned back to him. Without one of her large hats, with her red hair not as tightly drawn up on her head, she looked softer, not quite as old. There was an intelligence and quickness in her expression that warned him Mrs. Dobson wasn't a fool. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “So we both have secrets.”

“I can keep my mouth shut if I think it's the right thing to do. What are your intentions toward Megan?”

“I don't know.”

He'd answered without thinking, then realized he'd spoken the truth. He didn't know what to do about Megan because everything about her confused him. He hadn't expected her to still be in Landing, and he'd never thought she wouldn't have married. The fact that she was here and single had been enough of a shock, but in addition to that, there was the matter of the attraction between them. He could still feel the heat of their passion, the taste of her kisses. She dressed and acted like a perfectly proper spinster. But she wore French lace and kissed him with an abandon that left him wanting more.