Justin's Bride (19 page)

“I suppose I trust that answer more than one you've had time to polish,” Mrs. Dobson said. “What about Bonnie? Are you going to keep her?”

“Yes.”

She raised her thin eyebrows. “As easy as that. You're a bachelor, Justin. She's just a little girl.”

“She needs me.”

“I suspect you need her, as well.” She nodded as if she'd finally figured something out. “I know why you didn't bring the child to me. Of all the women in town, I was the only one you were afraid might say yes. You didn't want to give her up, did you?”

“You're as clever as a fox.”

She preened, then turned back to the stove. “Don't try sweet-talking me, young man. It's true, isn't it?” She turned over the bacon and ham slices, then poured out flapjacks onto the griddle.

“Once I got used to the idea, I did want to keep her.”

“What did Megan say about that?”

“She was concerned about her reputation.”

“Don't despise her for that. You might think you know everything, but you don't.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, just that you shouldn't be so quick to judge her. After all, although you're keeping Bonnie because she needs you, there's a part of you that's enjoying the trouble you're making.”

“That's not true. I care about her.”

“Of course you do. But the trouble is an unexpected advantage. Don't bother telling me otherwise.” She flipped over the flapjacks, and reached for a plate. By the time she'd served the bacon and ham, the pancakes were ready. She slid three onto his plate and set the food in front of him. “You never could resist trouble, Justin Kincaid.”

“I'm not that boy anymore.”

“I know. I hope the change is enough, because there's going to be more trouble than either of us can imagine. There's a feeling in my bones that says it's all going to get a lot worse.”

* * *

“You're making a mistake,” Megan said as she dried the silver coffeepot.

Colleen poured sugar into the server, then set it on the tray. “I know exactly what I'm doing. This should have been taken care of from the beginning. If I'd realized what that man meant to do.” She sniffed. “It's scandalous.”

“She's just a little girl. Why can't you leave it alone?”

Colleen straightened and glared at her. Her dark dress should have been flattering, but the rust-colored flowers seemed to pull all the color from her face. With her hair drawn tightly back into a bun and her mouth pinched together, Colleen looked unattractive and matronly.

“I hold you as much at fault as that man,” Colleen said. “Because you're my sister, I won't mention your part in this debacle, but I'm very disappointed. I can't imagine what Father would have made of this.”

Megan told herself to stay calm. Colleen was on a rampage. It didn't mean anything. She had these fits from time to time. Everyone around her had to listen to her rage on and on, then it died down. Megan should just smile sweetly and go along with her as she usually did. Except this time it was different. This time Colleen was raging against Bonnie. Megan wouldn't let anything happen to the little girl.

She checked the coffee. Sounds of conversation and laughter drifted in from the parlor. Most of the women in town and from the surrounding farms had been invited to Colleen's house for tea. Unfortunately, the mother of the boy Gene had hit wasn't among them. Megan had tried to talk to her sister about the incident, but her sister had dismissed it, saying the child obviously deserved slapping.

“Is the coffee done?” Colleen asked.

“Not yet.” Megan began slicing the cake she'd brought. What would her self-righteous sister say if she knew Bonnie had helped with it the previous afternoon? Megan decided to wait until Colleen had eaten a slice before telling her.

“I think you're wrong about this,” Megan said.

“Fortunately, your opinion doesn't matter to anyone.”

Megan gritted her teeth. Getting angry wouldn't accomplish anything. “Justin is being very sweet to that child. When no one else would take her in, he did. He's seeing that she's fed and clothed. Why is that so terrible?”

“He's a bachelor living in a hotel, for heaven's sake. That child is the daughter of a whore, and a bastard to boot. She should be in an orphanage, with others like her. Not prancing around town, or corrupting our God-fearing children with her filthy language.”

Megan set down the knife and wiped her hands on a towel. “The only one with a filthy mouth that I know is you, dear sister. You find pleasure in those words, don't you? Does it make you feel powerful or wicked to say them?”

Colleen drew herself up to her full height. Angry, righteous fire shot from her hazel eyes. “How dare you?”

“You're the one who dares. Bonnie is an innocent in all this. Why can't you see that?”

“I see you're being swayed by that man. I didn't know how far things had gone.” Colleen's gaze narrowed. “What sins have you committed, Megan Bartlett?”

“I'm not the point. Bonnie is. You're being unfair.”

“I forbid you to see her, or that vile man.”

Megan was glad she'd put the knife down. She planted her hands on her hips. “You don't have the right to forbid me to do anything.”

“Of course I do. I'm your sister, and married. I'm responsible for your reputation in town, and for what you've been doing. I know that you defended that man to Mrs. Greeley. Heaven only knows what other things you've done.”

“Stop talking about me,” Megan demanded. “We're discussing the little girl. She has no family, no home. She's only six years old. How can she be responsible for her parents' actions?”

“The sins of the father shall be visited upon the children.” Colleen picked up the coffee and poured the steaming liquid into the silver serving pot. “Finish putting that second tray together.”

Megan reached for the bottle of milk, then stopped. She stared at her sister. “I don't know you anymore, Colleen. We used to be close, but now you're a stranger to me.”

“That's your own doing. I haven't changed at all. You have. You're the one associating with the sheriff and his—”

“Stop it,” Megan said firmly. “Stop calling her names and saying those evil things. I won't listen.”

Colleen slammed the empty pot onto the table. “Don't you tell me what to do.”

“Colleen, don't be like this.” Megan stared at her sister, wondering when they'd become enemies. This isn't what she'd wanted. Why wouldn't Colleen listen? Why was the truth so difficult for her to hear? “When we were younger and our mother left—”

“No. Mama didn't leave. She's dead. I've told you and told you, she's dead.” Color flared on Colleen's pale face, staining her cheeks with an unhealthy-looking flush. “Mama died. There was a funeral.”

“That's not what happened.”

“No! I won't listen to this.” Colleen adjusted the silver service on the tray, and picked up the plate of sliced cake. “You make up your lies to torment me. I know you do. You spend your entire life tormenting me. It's bad enough that you run that store. Do you know how that's shamed me? My own sister working like a common laborer? You're a spinster, as well. Sometimes I can barely lift my head for the shame.”

Megan was used to this particular lecture. She'd heard it several times before. “Your shame comes and goes with amazing convenience,” she snapped. “The matter of the child is still unresolved. I don't understand your reluctance to deal with her. That is, however, your choice. But why do you protest when someone else gets involved? What happened to Christian charity?”

“I save it for good Christians.” Colleen picked up the full tray and motioned for Megan to follow her with the second one. “Mark my words, Sister. I will not tolerate your wickedness much longer. One whisper from me, from Gene, and no one will frequent your store.”

“You're wrong about that.”

“Am I?” Colleen smiled. “Shall we find out?”

“I'm your sister. Doesn't that mean anything?”

“Not if you persist in acting this way.” She walked from the kitchen.

Megan sat in one of the chairs by the table and rested her chin in her hands. She could hear the faint laughter and conversation from the parlor. She felt out of place and unwelcome in her sister's home. That made her sad, but wasn't surprising. This had been coming for a long time. Perhaps it had all started that cold November day their father had told them their mother was dead. As far as she knew, it was the only time their father had ever lied.

The back door opened and Gene walked in. His bare scalp and temple glistened from the heat. He wore a white shirt and vest, and carried his black jacket in one hand. When he saw her, he stopped and smiled. There was something peculiar and a little frightening about his eyes.

“Megan. What are you doing here?”

“Colleen is having a meeting.” She rose to her feet and approached the stove. “I was just waiting for the coffee.” She opened the pot and glanced at the dark liquid. “Oh, look. It's ready.” She poured it into the silver service.

Before she could pick up the tray, Gene moved close and placed his hand on her arm. “Colleen is very worried about you.”

Despite his lack of hair and his chilling expression, Gene wasn't unattractive. He was tall and lean, with a studied but graceful carriage. When they'd first been introduced, she, along with her sister, had thought him handsome. Her opinion had quickly changed as she'd spent more time with him. She'd even tried to talk Colleen out of the engagement.

Now, with his fingers gently stroking her forearm, she had to fight the urge to put as much space between them as possible. “My sister is overly protective. I understand her concerns, even if I don't agree with them. Don't worry yourself, Gene. Everything is fine.”

“I do worry about you. With your father gone, I consider you my responsibility.” His brown eyes met hers. Something flared there. She didn't want to know what it was so she turned away and swept up the heavy tray.

Gene seemed to take the hint and moved to the hallway and held open the door. It was an unnecessary task; the door stayed open on its own. Still, she thanked him graciously.

Before she could escape completely, he spoke again. “The child will be sent away.”

“You, too?” she asked, resigned. “What is it about this little girl that has everyone so afraid?”

“I'm not afraid. I'm just warning you. Bonnie's presence in this town is divisive. The Lord wants all of us to love one another and live in harmony.”

She gripped the tray tightly. “Except for Bonnie or her mother.”

“Exactly.”

“She's just one little girl.”

“It only takes one pair of hands to do the devil's work.”

Megan started down the hallway toward the parlor. She didn't know who was worse—Colleen or her husband. They both made her shudder.

She entered the parlor and realized she'd gone from bad to worse. The discussion there was already heated.

“It's disgusting,” Mrs. Greeley said, reaching forward and pouring herself another cup of coffee.

“I can't imagine what happens there,” another woman said.

There were ten ladies in all sitting in Colleen's parlor. She'd inherited their father's penchant for overfilling a room. Settee and sofas, chairs and tables were crammed into every available inch of space. Lacquered boxes and figurines littered the surface of the tables. Megan had to hold the tray while Mrs. Dobson made room. She set it down, then settled next to the older woman, all the while wondering how long she had to stay before she could politely escape.

“She sleeps in his bed,” Mrs. Greeley said knowledgeably. Several of the ladies gasped. They were all the best of Landing society, such as it was. The butcher's wife, the widowed sisters who owned the founding farm, Colleen, Mrs. Dobson, Megan and a few others Megan didn't know that well.

Mrs. Dobson straightened on the overstuffed settee. “Anabell, I'm ashamed of you for spreading lies like that. Bonnie has her own room.”

“But it's
next
to his, isn't it?”

“She's six years old,” Megan said heatedly. “She gets frightened at night. She's recently lost her mother.”

“Good riddance,” Colleen said, then sniffed.

Megan started to stand up, but Mrs. Dobson placed a restraining hand on her arm. “Hush, child,” she said softly. “Getting angry won't solve anything.”

“Why are you here?” Megan asked in a whisper. “I thought you liked Justin.”

“I do. Finding out what your sister has planned seemed the most sensible route.”

Mrs. Greeley was speaking again. “Whether or not the child has her own room isn't really the point, is it? That girl is a problem. A blemish on our town and a reminder of the kind of sin we're struggling to get rid of. If Sheriff Kincaid doesn't agree to the church's most generous offer—” she paused while Colleen smiled modestly “—then I say he should be fired.”

“He has a contract,” one of the widows reminded her.

“I'll have Winston check with our lawyer this week,” Mrs. Greeley said.

“Sheriff Kincaid is a good man, and we're lucky to have him,” Mrs. Dobson said.

Colleen arched her eyebrows. “What an interesting point of view. Are we to ignore the fact that seven years ago he was run out of town for beating a prostitute nearly to death?”

“He was cleared of that charge,” Mrs. Dobson reminded her.

“Yes, she cleared him of it. If I remember correctly, I heard that she knew him intimately enough to be able to say it wasn't him in the dark. Curious, don't you think? That he's taken such an interest in that same woman's child.”

Megan knew what she was implying. “Bonnie is only six. Justin's—” She swallowed hard as eight pair of eyes focused on her. She should have called him Sheriff Kincaid. Too late now. “Justin was gone over seven years,” she continued. “Bonnie couldn't be his.”