After the Storm (22 page)

“What do you mean?” Cailin let her shoulders ease from their soldier-straight stance and smiled. “I have to admit, whether well-behaved or naughty, my children act pretty much as they always have.”
Except when they treat Samuel as if he's a real part of our family
.

“It isn't a matter of misbehaving; it's odd behavior. For example, Sean often takes food and hides it under his bed, even though we always let him know he can have as much as he wants to eat. He doesn't eat it, and if the cats and dog don't have a feast, it rots. I can't understand why he keeps doing it.”

“You have never been hungry. Truly hungry.” Cailin looked across the room to where her children were giggling as they drank cider and chattered with their friends. She wondered which of these children had come here on the orphan train. “If you'd ever been truly hungry, you'd know how wise it is to hoard food in case the bounty comes to an abrupt end.”

“That makes sense.” Emma smiled. “Thank you so much. Now that I have an idea of what he might be feeling, I can help him. This is going to be very helpful.”

She laughed, surprising herself. Talking with these women was not like talking to strangers. It was true; nobody could stay a stranger in Haven for long. “I'm only guessing.”

“It's a good guess. Better than anything any of us have considered.”

Rachel added, “If you'd be willing to speak with some of the other people who have had children placed out with them, I know anything you have to say would be gratefully heeded. We could invite everyone here to the Grange Hall, and you could enlighten—”

“No!” gasped Cailin, shaking her head. “Please don't suggest I stand up in front of people and talk to them. I could never, never do that.”

Emma patted her shoulder. “No one would ask you to do something that makes you uneasy. Shall we make it just the women? Would that put you more at ease?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. The women meet here occasionally after a Grange meeting to clean up. Would you be willing to answer their questions when you come and help us day after tomorrow?”

“If I can.” Even though she knew she should change the subject, she heard herself saying, “I didn't live in the part of New York City where most of these children were found, but I'll be glad to help in any way I can.”

“But you said you knew about being hungry …” Rachel halted herself. “Forgive me, Cailin. I didn't mean to pry.”

“It's all right,” she said, meaning the words more than she ever had. “One of the reasons I brought my children from Ireland was to escape the deprivation there. Although they didn't live hard lives in New York as the other children on the train did, they understand how lucky they are to be here.”

“Samuel has welcomed them as if they were his own flesh and blood,” Emma said, smiling. “And he's been kind enough to let you stay until you can decide what you want to do. Not many men would be so generous.”

Noah stepped out of the crowd and put his arm around her shoulders. “Are you tarring all of my gender with a single brush?”

“Not
all
.” Emma laughed before excusing herself and Noah.

Cailin continued talking with Rachel and was introduced to Kitty Cat, a clearly mischievous imp with Irish red hair, before the children ran back outside to play hide-and-seek in the thickening dusk. For a moment, Cailin was intimidated by Rachel's obvious high level of education, recalling that this woman assisted with business affairs around Haven, but she relaxed again as they spoke of the children.

They were interrupted by the sound of a bow being drawn across fiddle strings. A hand settled on Cailin's waist, and she smiled as she looked over her shoulder. She did not have to guess who stood there. No one but Samuel could create such luscious longing with even a chaste touch.

“Ready?” he asked after greeting Rachel.

“For what?” Cailin returned.

“Dancing to start with.” He led her to the center of the room, adding softly, “Where it goes from there is up to you.”

She had to fight her own body, which wanted to melt against him. Her voice trembled as she said, “You're a rogue tonight.”

“Any night you wish.” He raised his voice again to its customary level and asked, “Do you know how to square dance?”

“No, but I learn quickly.”

“So I've seen.”

“Maybe one of these evenings, I'll teach you some of the dances we do in Ireland.”

“That would be fun.” He squeezed her hand as he brought her to stand on his right across from another couple.

Two other couples filled out the square, and Cailin was pleased to see Wyatt and Rachel were on her right. She listened to Samuel's quick instructions, which ended with, “Just heed the caller and follow what the rest of us do.” Many of the steps he described she knew from Irish reels.

The bow was pulled across the fiddle again, and she was astonished to see it was being played by Doc Bamburger. Beside him stood the man who had waited for Miss Underhill after the meeting in the schoolhouse. She heard someone call him Barry.

Raising his hands, Barry called for everyone to honor their partner, then their corner.

Cailin laughed as she curtsied first to Samuel and then to Wyatt, both of whom bowed to her. Then she took Samuel's hand and tried to keep up with the steps that were a bit more convoluted than she had guessed. The others were patient with her mistakes, and by the time they had completed the first dance, she could keep up with them.

Her patched skirt whirled out around her ankles as Samuel spun her about. She smiled up into his eyes when he pulled her a bit tighter before they swirled apart to be swung by others in the square. When she went around the square, one person taking her right hand and then the next her left as they wove through the dance's pattern, she was amazed that coming back to Samuel, who twirled her again, could be as splendid as coming home to a warm hearth on a cool, rainy day. She wanted to be in his arms, to hear him laugh, to share this special moment with him.

She applauded with the others when the dance ended. Glasses were passed around, and she sipped the sweet cider that was, she knew, such a treat at this time of year. She hurried to empty her glass and put it on a windowsill as Doc Bamburger picked up his fiddle again. The melody he played this time was slower.

When Samuel laced his fingers through hers, she walked with him to where couples were waltzing. He did not ask her if she knew these steps, just pulled her to him and led her through the circular sweep of the dance. Her fingers rose from his shoulder to comb through his hair. He smiled and kissed her lightly.

Her feet faltered, but he did not let her stop. When his hand stroked her waist, bringing her even closer, she stiffened. He drew back, and his smile vanished.

“Dancing is supposed to be fun,” he said quietly.

“It was.”

“Until?”

She pulled her hands out of his. He caught them, repeating his question.

She owed him an answer, but she asked, “Can we talk about this later?”

“I suspect it'd be better if we didn't let this fester.” Releasing one hand, he guided her past the other dancers.

Eyes followed them yet again. Glancing back, she saw smiles and quickly averted gazes. She wanted to shout that no one was hiding anything from her. They thought she and Samuel were leaving to have a tryst. How wrong they were!

The air seemed even closer outside than in the Grange Hall. When Cailin started to call to the children to meet them at the rockaway, Samuel halted her. He saw her astonishment, even in the darkness. Or was it just that he knew her face and its many expressions so well that each one was printed indelibly in his mind, to be recalled whenever he needed?

Pausing by the carriage, he said, “Please explain what just happened. I thought we were having a good time.”

“We were.”

“Until …?” he asked as he had before. This time he did not wait for her answer. “Until I kissed you.”

She nodded.

“You've liked my kisses up until now, so I can only guess that either you've developed a distaste for them or you don't want me to kiss you when anyone else is around.”

“They'll think—”

“I don't care what
they
think. I care about why you care about what they think.”

“There are already enough suppositions about what's taking place at the farm.”

“You're right. Anyone who has given the matter the least bit of thought most likely assumes we're lovers. Is the idea so horrible?”

Shaking her head, she whispered, “Of course it isn't horrible, but—”

“Gossip might hurt the children.”

She nodded.

He tipped her chin so he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. “Cailin, listen to me. No one's going to blame the children for anything you and I do. I think you're more worried about what they'll think of
you
.”

“You're wrong!”

“Am I?”

“I admit I was worried, but after talking to Emma and Rachel, I'm not any longer. They asked me to come back and speak to the ladies who have had children placed out with them. They hope I have some answers to what their youngsters have experienced. Even if I don't, they asked me if I'd help.”

“As well they should, but that doesn't change anything. If you want to know what I think, it's that you'll use any excuse to avoid admitting the truth that you want me as much as I want you.”

He thought she would fire back a sharp answer, but she pushed herself away. Running her fingers along the side of the rockaway, she said, “If you want to know what I think, I think it's time the children went home and to bed.”

“And us?”

Her fingers tightened on the side of the rockaway, and he heard her sharp intake of breath before it shuddered out of her. Her words could deny the truth to him all she wanted, but each reaction told him that he was right. She was eager to be in his arms as they sought ecstasy. If he …

Was he crazy? Working the farm and trying to keep the children happy kept him busy. He did not need to complicate his life with Cailin, even if she was willing to be a complication, which she was trying to prove to him—and herself—she was not. It was tempting to toss aside sensible thoughts and capitulate to the craving for her, but he knew how high the cost of that pleasure could be. To protect the children from gossip, she might flee Haven. She would do anything for them—even deprive herself and him this chance for happiness.

He took her hand to help her into the carriage. Her fingers quivered like a leaf caught by the wind, and he saw uncertainty as she tipped back her head to meet his gaze. Moonlight danced on her hair, but the flame in her eyes was even brighter. As if from a great distance, he could hear the children playing on the green.

A single step would bring her into his arms. All he needed to do was tug on her fingers. Would she come willingly? Would she soften against him? Her parted lips were an invitation to taste them. His fingers were tickled as he brushed wisps of hair away from her cheeks.

Wrong move, Samuel knew, because Cailin stepped away and climbed into the rockaway on her own. He heard fabric rip and what sounded like a curse, but she did not look at him as she sat with her hands primly folded in her lap.

Sitting next to her, he did not touch her. He took the reins to keep his fingers from exploring her bewitching curves. His elbows rested on his knees as he said, “All right. You've made yourself clear, but I've got a question. What now?”

“We should leave things as they are.”

He snorted his disagreement. “Do you think I'm going to be satisfied with a few kisses whenever we can no longer keep ourselves from slipping into each other's arms? Do you think
you
will be?”

“We should leave things as they are,” she repeated, not looking at him.

“What is it? Burned once, you learn to look before you leap from the frying pan into the fire?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted how Cailin drew back into herself. The question had touched a nerve, one that still hurt. Her hands curled into fists in her lap. That as much as her clipped tone told him how badly her late husband's betrayal continued to wound her. He damned Abban Rafferty. He silently repeated the oath at Cailin who mourned, despite her assertion otherwise, for the man who had hurt more than her heart.

Samuel shouted for the children before saying in a lower voice, “So we'll go back to the way it was in the beginning.”

He thought he heard a sob in her breath as she answered, “You must agree that would be for the best. You'll provide my children and me with a home. In exchange, I'll tend to all that needs to be done in the house.”

Tossing down the reins, he swept his arm around her waist and turned her to face him. Her soft breasts stroked him as she drew in a deep breath. It took every ounce of his strength not to shove her back on the seat and make love with her right there. He caught her chin between his fingers and smiled coolly. He kept his voice too low for the children to hear as they bid their friends good night. “Cailin, you're very wrong. You don't tend to all that needs to be done in the house.”

“I believe you've had too much hard cider, Samuel.”

“You may be right. I may have had too much cider.” He brushed a fingertip along her brows before curving his palm across her cheek. “But one thing I know, I'd much rather drink of you.”

“Poetry won't persuade me.” Her rapid heartbeat contradicted her cold words.

“Then what will?” He ran his tongue along her lips before his mouth covered hers. “Will this?”

“Samuel …” His name was no more than a breathless whisper.

But it was enough for him. He pulled her against him and kissed her as if he never would have the chance again. Losing himself in the thrill, as she softened and slipped her arms up his back, he knew this was what he needed as a salve for the pain he had brought with him from Cincinnati. Making love with Cailin would help him forget the events that had ripped apart his life. Maybe they could forget together. A pang cut through him as he wondered if she wanted to use him in the same way.