After the Storm (10 page)

Five

Being rested and well was wonderful. Washing her hair and feeling clean would be even more delightful, but she had taken so much of Samuel's time already. She could not ask him if he could bring a tub in here so she could wash.

Cailin sat on the stool in front of the dressing table and finished pinning her hair into place. She stared at her reflection, noting new lines in her face since she had last had the luxury to appraise her appearance. That had been before she discovered what had happened to her children. But now that was behind her.

She smiled, and the lines vanished. It was so easy to smile when her children were here and she was well once more.

Standing, she smoothed her gown over her single petticoat. The patches were less noticeable in the lamplight than she had feared. Sunshine would pick out each stitch, but she would not shame her children by looking like a pauper.

“But you are a pauper,” she said to her reflection. She took a deep breath and released it slowly.

Samuel had said no one in Haven was considered a stranger long, so that must mean he was familiar with everyone living along the river. If there was someone who was in need of help in their house, he might know. He would likely know as well if any house was vacant and available for rent.

Going to the bedside table, she picked up the sheaf of papers Samuel had given her when she first awoke. She lifted the topmost one, then let it fall back into place. The fine handwriting continued from the first page to the second. She saw a trio of numbers on the page. They matched the ages of her children. She ran her fingers across the letters next to them.
B-r-e-n-d-a-n. M-e-g-a-n. L-o-t-t-i-e
. Those letters must spell Brendan, Megan, and Charlotte. After the names were the letters
R-a-f-f-e-r-t-y
. She recognized those letters, for she had seen Abban sign his name the day they were married. Rafferty.

Cailin folded the papers again. She had been a fool to believe that Abban had taken those precious vows seriously. But how could she have guessed that, even then, he might have intended to return to America … without her?

“That's in the past,” she murmured as she walked slowly to the door. “It's time to start over.”

She hesitated as she put her fingers on the glass knob. The last time she had seen Samuel was when he had shocked her by kissing her with such fervor. She had not expected
that
, but she had not been able to think of much else since. He was so kind to the children. Maybe he considered his kiss as a kindness. If so, she needed to tell him that he was wrong. And she had to persuade herself it was wrong to want another kiss.

Cailin opened the door slowly. She had heard the children go to bed almost an hour earlier, so this would be a good time to speak to Samuel. Walking beside the staircase, she touched the banister at the lower end. It was as smooth as the well-polished wood on the bed.

She paused at the newel post that was topped by a brass sculpture of a dog sitting on its back feet and holding a up glass globe. Resting her cheek against the railing, she stared at what must be some sort of lamp. She had not guessed she was still this weak. She had walked around her room throughout the day, but now she panted as if she had run all the way from Ireland to Haven.

When the weakness passed, Cailin pushed herself away from the banister. To her right, she saw what appeared, in the moonlight, to be a dining room. A large table was surrounded by tall chairs. The kitchen must be beyond it. She looked to her left. A door set back in the shadows next to a long-case clock was closed. Another one was shut as well, but a broad doorway was open near the front door. She went there, guessing quite rightly that it was a parlor.

She looked in. The light came from a lamp in the room beyond. Taking care to edge around the furniture that filled the parlor, she paused and stared at the incredible fountain in the corner. It was larger than the one that had been such a source of pride in the house where she had worked in New York.

Was Samuel as rich as her erstwhile employers? Until now, she had been able to overlook the elegance of the furniture in the room she had been using. “The guest room,” the children had called it. She had never heard of a house having such a room until she arrived in America.

Glistening in the faint light from the back room, the marble tabletops bespoke a wealth that contrasted with his worn workclothes. Everything she discovered about Samuel Jennings created more questions.

Cailin went to where pocket doors had been slid aside a short distance to grant entrance to a back parlor. She stared in astonishment at the disarray. A rolltop desk was set between the room's two windows, and glass-fronted bookcases lined the walls. All of them were empty. Several frames with pages covered with words hung on the wall, but she saw no photographs.

Books were piled on the floor by several crates that must have been opened recently, because the lids with the nails sticking out of them were leaning against the wall. She doubted Samuel would have left those nails like this for long; he would not want one of the children to get stabbed.

Turning, she saw many more crates stacked to the ceiling. If the pocket doors had been opened all the way, crates might have spilled into the front parlor. She edged away, not wanting one to topple on her.

Were they all filled with books? She bent to touch a book on the closest pile. The leather binding was finer than any pair of shoes she had ever owned. Gold leaf edged the pages. Her employers in New York had been collecting art they believed gave their house a cultured appearance. Maybe Samuel collected fancy books.

“Oh, blessed morn!” she gasped when she saw that all the books were covered with fine leather and gold leaf. These must be worth more than Athair's farm.

Hearing footsteps, she stood. She started for the door, then halted. Something had caught on her collar. She tried to shift, but whatever held on to her clattered against the wall. She strained to see what gripped the back of her collar.

“Cailin!” Samuel paused in the shadowed doorway. “I thought you'd be asleep by now.”

“I've slept my fill, I guess.” She tried to edge to one side, hoping whatever held her collar would release it.

He took a step into the room, and she could not keep from staring. This was not the farmer she had met before, but a gentleman. His vest beneath his light brown coat was of gold satin. Trousers, a shade darker than his coat, partially covered shoes that glowed, even in the dim light, with a recent polish.

As he looked down at himself, he smiled. “I was on my way into Haven for a meeting, but if there's something you need …”

To be unhooked from whatever has me
! She silenced the thought, hoping she could figure out a way to get herself free from … whatever.

“I wanted to return these papers to you.” She held them out.

Taking them, he started to walk past her but halted when she moved only an inch to one side. She could not move farther. His brows lowered, and she smiled weakly. How could she explain that she was stuck?

“Do you have any questions about anything in them?” he asked as he edged around her and went to the desk. Rolling up the top, he drew a key out of a pocket. He pushed aside a pair of books. Opening a drawer, he put the papers inside and locked it again before lowering the top.

“No.” Cailin struggled to look over her shoulder. More frames were lined up just behind her. One of them must have snagged her collar.

“So you can see now why I was surprised when you arrived?”

“Yes, of course.” She wished he would leave so she could find a way to escape from whatever held her.

“I had thought you'd wait until morning before you started exploring.” He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Without the children underfoot, it was a bit easier.”

“True.” He smiled. “They do have a way of asking more questions than any one person can answer.”

Why was he being as talkative as the children? She wiggled a bit to her left, hoping she could get free. “I hope you don't mind if I look around the house more in the daylight.”

“Of course not.”

“You have very nice furniture here.” She pretended to be intrigued with the lamp set on a crate by the door. “So many of the things seem new. Did you buy them just before you left Cincinnati?”

“Yes.”

At Samuel's terse answer, Cailin looked at him. What was it about Cincinnati that caused this reaction? Maybe the children would know.

Quietly she said, “I don't want to keep you from being on time for your meeting.”

“I should be going.” He turned, his foot hitting a stack of books. When they crashed to the floor, he grimaced and bent to pick them up.

This was her chance. She slipped a hand up behind her, groping to reach the frame and free herself.

Broad fingers covered hers, and she looked up. Her nose bumped into Samuel's firm chin. She would have jumped back if she could have but froze when he laughed.

“Don't move,” he ordered.

“I can't. Can you get me loose without ripping my collar?”

“I'm not sure I should. You make a nice addition to the wall.”

She stared up at Samuel. His face was even more compelling at this distance, and more contradictory. Although he was smiling, his eyes had an intensity that unsettled her.

“I don't think this is funny,” she replied. “You wouldn't think it was funny either if you were stuck.”

“Probably not.” He chuckled while he worked to detach the frame from her dress. A scent of some musky cologne drifted from him as he stepped back. “There. All set, and no damage to you.”

Cailin realized she might as well smile, too. “Just my pride.”

He laughed. When he reached toward her, she fought not to scurry away. She might get snagged again. The heat of embarrassment pumped through her as he straightened the frame behind her.

“And no damage to anything but my foot and some of these books.” He gave her that cockeyed grin that sent something luscious swirling through her. “Next time, I'll watch where I'm going. But you must admit, a woman squirming up against the wall is distracting.”

Her gaze was caught by his. She was going to have to watch what she said. He could be as smooth as a fresh coat of whitewash. “Really, Samuel!”

“Really, Cailin.”

She realized he had not moved farther away. With his arm resting on the wall close to her, he had—if anything—inched closer.

“If you will excuse me—”

“I have so far, even when you poked your nose into my office.”

“Your office? I didn't know farmers have offices,” she said.

“This one does, for the lack of a better name for this mess.”

“Have you read all these books?”

“Heavens, no!” He laughed and lifted one out of a crate. “These law books aren't easy reading.”

“Law books? Are you a lawyer?”

“I have been.” He dropped the book back into the crate. “But right now, I need to be on my way into Haven or I'll be so late the library committee meeting will be over.” He did not move as he added, “We're trying to get a library established in the village. Then I can donate these books and get them out of my house.”

“If you needed them—”

“They'd be right there. I just would have to go into town and get them.”

She laughed. “So you have the villagers' appreciation and yet get what you want, too?”

“Exactly. I hope others aren't as insightful as you, Cailin.” His voice softened on her name, turning it into a caress.

If he heard the gasp battering within her throat, he might … she had no idea what he might do. He truly was a contradiction. He read people well; perhaps that was a skill he had learned along with the law. Maybe he thought this honesty would make her trust him. She should put him to rights and let him know how thoroughly he was failing.

She did not trust him, and she did not trust herself when he was standing so close to her. She resisted glancing at the door to see if the children might have slipped down the stairs to eavesdrop. This room seemed so much cozier with the two of them here. Too cozy.

“I had another reason for looking for you,” she said.

“Really?” He arched that single eyebrow, and she wondered if he had guessed how that fascinated her.

“Now that I'm well—”

“Better, but not well, I'd say by the look of you. You're pale.”

“My Irish complexion.” She laughed, but the sound fell flat.

“If your Irish complexion is gray.”

“Samuel, I need to look for work to support myself and my children.”

He scowled. “I've been taking care of the children for the past six months, and I don't intend to stop making sure they have food and a roof over their heads simply because you've shown up in Haven.”

“I need to find work.” She should not have mentioned the children; Samuel always got defensive when she spoke of them. “I thought you might be able to recommend someone who needs help in the house.”

“Maids aren't
de rigueur
in Haven.”

“What?”

His smile returned but was cool. “No one has a maid here.”

“You have Rhea.”

“Yes, but only to help two days a week. That isn't unusual. A full-time staff is. This isn't New York City.”

Cailin bit back the sarcastic retort she wanted to make when he acted as if she had no more sense than Lottie. “If that's the case, then I may have to leave Haven to look for work.”

“Or you could take over the household here.”

“Here?” She stared at him in disbelief. While she was ailing, nobody would think it strange for her to remain in this house with Samuel, but if she stayed once she was well, it would be very different.

As if he had heard her thoughts, he asked, “Do you really care more about what other people think than about your children?”