Carol Ritten Smith Page 13

  She needn’t have bothered telling Davy. He had spun around the minute Tom attempted to reach up under his sister’s skirt.

  Too angry to be embarrassed, Beth unfastened the garters, rolled down the cotton stocking and carefully slipped it off her foot, but when she took one look at her swollen ankle, her anger was replaced with dismay. “Oh my,” she muttered.

  Tom glanced over his shoulder and followed her gaze to her foot. He turned to have a closer look. Her swollen foot was an ugly yellow-purple. “This is a serious sprain, Beth. You really should have Doc Fisher take a look at it.”

  Davy turned to inspect. “Wow, it looks like a turnip.” He would have touched it, but Tom stopped him. Wrapping her foot gently in a towel, he lowered it into the basin of snow and gently packed the remaining snow around her ankle.

  Davy watched the entire process with great interest. “How come you’re making Beth put her foot in the snow?”

  “It will help decrease the swelling.”

  “Oh.” Davy ingested that information. “Would it have helped if you put snow on your leg?”

  “My leg?” Tom repeated, intent on his job and not catching Davy’s meaning.

  “Yeah, you hurt your leg tonight. Don’t you remember?”

  For the first time ever, Beth saw Tom color and having caught him so unexpectedly vulnerable, she felt prompted to lean forward, and brazenly taunt, “Yes, Tom, remember your leg?”

  She felt so smug, so pleased with herself. Certainly it was shameless goading, and totally out of character for her, but after all the embarrassing things he had said to her, she felt justified.

  Tom thoughtfully nodded as if mentally chalking up a point for her. Then he looked at her brother and smiled. “Well, Davy, when you get older you’ll realize sometimes it feels good to have your leg swell.”

  “Huh?” Davy uttered, perplexed.

  Beth could feel heat rising from her neck up face while Tom peered at her innocently. She had a mind to empty the basin of snow over his self-righteous head, and then crown him with it.

  Fortunately, Davy missed the gist of the entire conversation, and was busy poking little holes in the snow with his finger. Suddenly, he stopped and jumped to his feet, racing to open the door. “Listen! I can hear the bells. It’s midnight!” He stood outside, gazing up to the heavens, waiting for the magic to begin.

  Tom crept up behind him, grabbed the boy by the waist, tossed him high into the air, caught him and gave him a tight squeeze and a quick kiss before releasing him. “Happy New Year, Bud.”

  “You too, Tom,” the boy replied, and then ran excitedly to his sister, stopping short before he bumped her foot. “It’s the New Year!”

  Beth pulled him onto her lap and hugged him close, but Davy, always embarrassed by such affection, soon wiggled loose like a slippery fish held too tight.

  He raced back to Tom and grabbed his hand. “Come on. You have to give Beth her New Year’s kiss.”

  “You’re right. I do!” Tom grinned licentiously and Beth truly knew what it felt like to be an animal with its foot caught in a trap. Her heart pounded wildly, and her throat tightened as Tom allowed Davy to lead him near. He towered above her and she tremulously looked up the long length of him until her eyes met his. She felt dizzy with anticipation. Tom lowered himself to squat beside her. His smile softened. He encased her trembling hands in his.

  “Beth,” he whispered, his voice so strangely hoarse it sent lovely shivers dancing up her spine. “This is a New Year. My clean sheet of paper, no past, no regrets, only the future to do with as I choose.” With the slightest of smiles, he whispered, “I choose this.” He leaned forward and gently brushed her lips with his, testing her response.

  His kiss was as light as a butterfly’s wing upon her lips, and she waited breathlessly for its return. It did, alighting again, this time staying, becoming more ardent, yet never commanding, never threatening. Beth felt weak, liquid. Her lips parted slightly and Tom’s breath joined hers in a sweet sigh. And the butterfly she felt upon her lips now fluttered in her heart. She felt his lips slowly pull away from hers.

  “You see, there is magic,” Tom whispered before leaning back on his haunches, and Beth thought, yes, magic. She was unaware a third face had been leaning in just as closely to witness their kiss.

  “Yee-uck!” Davy exclaimed, drawing back and breaking the spell. “Boy, am I glad I don’t have a girlfriend!”

  Involuntarily, Beth’s hands flew to her cheeks. “I am not Tom’s girlfriend! I am merely his friend,” she said. When had he changed from a threat to a friend? She couldn’t decide whether his rise in status excited her or frightened her.

  “But you’re a girl,” Davy interrupted her puzzled thoughts, “and you’re Tom’s friend so how come you’re not his girlfriend?”

  She knew Davy wasn’t trying to be difficult. He honestly didn’t understand the word’s nuance.

  Tom was no help. “Yeah, Beth,” he taunted, feigning confusion. “How come?”

  “Well,” she began, casting Tom a scathing glare, “there’s a big difference between a girl friend and a girlfriend. Take Penelope Pickard. She’s a girl and she’s your friend, isn’t she?”

  Davy nodded. “But she’s not my girlfriend, right?”

  “That’s right!” she answered, pleased her brother was so astute.

  Her pleasure was short lived.

  “ ’Cause I don’t want to kiss her, but Tom, he wanted to kiss you, so that makes you his girlfriend, right?”

  “No! Not right.” She took a deep breath. “First of all, Tom didn’t want to kiss me.”

  “Oh, but I did,” Tom verified.

  “But only because it was New Year’s.”

  “No, not just because of that.” He pulled out a chair from the table, sat with arms crossed, and leaned back until the two front chair legs lifted inches from the floor. He was obviously set to enjoy himself.

  Had he been closer, Beth would have employed her one good foot to kick the chair right out from under him. To calm herself she smoothed down the folds in her skirt. There had to be some analogy to make this clear, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one. Finally in exasperation, she said, “I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it. I am not Tom’s girlfriend. Now, go get ready for bed. It’s late.”

  Davy appeared to be about as perplexed as a dog with two tails. Tom rocked forward, setting his chair back on all fours. He grabbed Davy and pulled him to stand between his knees. “Bud, I know it’s hard to understand, but grown-ups kiss on special occasions, just because they want to wish each other good wishes. Now, if they kiss when it’s not Christmas or New Year’s or some other special occasion — ”

  “Like birthdays?”

  Tom nodded. “Like birthdays. When they kiss for no special reason other than they just want to kiss, well, then they’re likely boyfriend and girlfriend.” He gave the boy a gentle swat on the rump. “Now, off to bed.”

  When the bedroom door closed, Beth turned on him, more than a little exasperated. “You could have volunteered that explanation earlier.”

  Tom shrugged. “It was more fun watching you squirm.”

  Beth reached down into the basin and threw snow at him.

  Tom laughed, brushing the bits of snow off his chest before they melted. He got to his feet, stepping back before she threw more. “Do you have another towel? Your ankle should be bound before I leave.”

  “There’s another in the cupboard.”

  While Tom tended her foot, Beth mused. If Tom waiting on her hand and foot was what the New Year was going to bring, Beth had to admit that she rather liked it. And she also had to admit that she rather liked Tom. But never to the point of being his girlfriend. Just his girl friend.

  Chapter 12

  It was only three days into the New Year and Tom already had regrets. First, he regretted ever having kissed Beth. Second, he regretted not having done a more thorough job when he had the chance. Tom was no beginner when it c
ame to kissing, so it didn’t make sense that such an innocent, chaste kiss should haunt him. Yet even the mere memory of it sent his blood sluicing through his veins. One thing for sure, if the opportunity ever presented itself again, he would make damn sure he kissed Beth longer and deeper … before someone else beat him to it.

  He stood another log on end on the chopping block and split it with one downward stroke of the ax. Cutting firewood usually soothed Tom. Today he figured he could cut enough wood for two winters and still be confused. What was it about that kiss?

  He wondered if it had affected Beth in the same way. She seemed to enjoy the kiss, but she had certainly become flustered when Davy suggested they were more than just friends. Why, she reacted as if the concept was totally out of the question. Obviously the age difference bothered her more than it did him. So, he was sixteen years older than her. So what?

  So what? Tom’s conscience spoke harshly to him. I’ll tell you what. By the time you knew how to ride horses and cuss, all Beth knew how to do was eat, sleep and spit up. She probably was learning to eat solids when you first kissed a girl. And playing with her little friends the first time you …

  Disheartened, Tom stopped his thoughts. Beth was right. Nineteen was too young for thirty-five. Thirty-five! Why, in horse years he was ready for the glue factory! Except he didn’t feel old. And for darn sure, his body wasn’t acting old. Every time he thought about kissing Beth good and proper, he got rigid.

  In frustration, Tom swung the ax down hard. It missed the piece of wood altogether and glanced off the chopping block. Pay attention, or you’ll be minus a foot. But concentration eluded him, so he set the ax inside the woodshed and stacked the wood.

  As he worked, it came to him what he really needed was a night upstairs in Tannerville’s Regal Hotel to eliminate his physical problem, at least temporarily. He looked at his watch. It was too late today, but maybe tomorrow, Saturday. Leave early in the afternoon and ride out to Tannerville, spend a pleasurable night rolling about in a cozy bed with a willing woman, one with huge smothering breasts and peroxide-bleached hair and make-up as thick as plaster. One wearing enough perfume to make his eyes water. One who would make him question if he’d be able to walk the next morning. Maybe then he could get the schoolteacher and the kiss they shared right out of his head.

  But Saturday afternoon came and went, and the evening found Tom sitting at home staring at the flames in his fireplace. They danced green like the green in Beth’s eyes, and the embers flared gold and copper, the color of her hair. Confound it, Tom chafed. What did he have to do to get her out of his mind?

  He rose, went to the stove, and lifted the coffeepot. Warm enough. He poured himself a cup, then returned to watch the flames. Lately Tom felt as though he was rattling about in his big empty house like a marble in a hatbox. Maybe he should get a new dog, a puppy. Wouldn’t Davy love that!

  Tom smiled anticipating Davy’s reaction. He hoped that someday he could have a couple of kids who were as great as Davy. Of course, he’d have to get himself a wife first.

  Piece of cake. Not that he was bragging, but Tom knew he was a much sought after bachelor. Now, with Abby gone, he could have his pick of single women. If he wanted, he could be married within a week. Okay, maybe that was bragging.

  Tom leaned back in his chair. Methodically, he considered the single women available in the area. Beth came first to mind. Forget her. She thinks you’re old, remember? Besides, he wanted a wife, not someone he’d have to raise. Think. Nan Fuller, how about her? She was pleasant enough, but Tom didn’t know if he could get around those protruding buckteeth. How did one go about kissing someone when one lip was stretched out over the other one like an overhang on a roof? Nope, better try another. Okay, what about Beryl Mason. Talks incessantly. Miranda Parsons? Are you nuts? Too many times around the track. Tom assessed the other single women, but decided that they were either lacking or downright unappealing. He’d swear to a life of celibacy before he’d marry any of them, and right now celibacy wasn’t sitting comfortably with Tom.

  The fire snapped and a large ember glowed brightly, reminding him once again of Beth’s hair. Okay, aside from her thinking that you are as old as Methuselah, how about Beth Patterson? Now that would be one fiery marriage! He sipped his coffee, rather amused at the thought of them together. With her temper, she’d likely snap his head off as soon as the nuptials were spoken. Tom chuckled, remembering how indignant she got when he tackled her in his barn, as if he were the one at fault. She had nice breasts though. Two perfect handfuls.

  Tom forced the charming memory from his head. Concentrate! One thing in Beth’s favor, she was a damn good cook, if the box social was any indication. Too bad her attitude was so distasteful. He had to laugh. Fate had tricked them both that day. Had it only been a couple of months ago? It seemed so much longer.

  He put another log in the fireplace, adjusted the damper slightly and returned to his chair. His thoughts of Beth resumed. She had been pleasant Christmas Day. Of course, that could have been for Mary and Earl’s benefit. Regardless, he had enjoyed her company and when he escorted her and Davy home, she’d been amiable, at least until he made that moronic comment about his adolescent yearnings. Even he knew he was out of line with that remark.

  Yup, put him and Beth in the same vicinity and trouble would soon arrive. Their turbulent relationship, if he could call their time together a relationship, reminded Tom of soda and vinegar mixed, lots of froth and fizzle. Still, he couldn’t deny that their little skirmishes were exhilarating. There was something about her that brought out the devil in him.

  As he drank his barely tepid coffee, he thought about her station in life. A single schoolteacher usually had eager beaus knocking at her door, but oddly enough Tom hadn’t seen any men, other than Lars Anderstom, even mildly interested in Beth. He supposed Bill and Davy were the reason. Marry Beth and get two brothers in the package. Not many bachelors wanted a ready-made family.

  But that didn’t really bother Tom. He already had a tender spot for Davy and he could learn to tolerate Bill. And he was already falling in love with Beth.

  Tom nearly choked on his coffee. Falling in love?

  Before Christmas day, he hadn’t even thought of Beth as anything more than a pain-in-the-butt, more-trouble-than-she-was-worth schoolteacher. But when she went flying off the sled and was lying there still as death in the snow, his heart constricted. Thinking back, those frightening few seconds might have been the very turning point at which he started to feel more than just mild interest in Beth Patterson. As they lobbed snowballs at each other, he saw a different side of her. She was joyous and carefree. Could one, enjoyable day — Christmas Day — have turned his heart around? Maybe, maybe not. But coupled with New Year’s Eve and that kiss, Tom knew he was falling in love with Beth.

  Maybe marriage to Beth Patterson was a possibility. At least they would never get bored with each other if the past few months were any indication.

  Only one problem, Romeo. Beth isn’t interested in an old fart like you. Chew on that for a while! He closed his eyes and smiled regardless. Lots of married couples overcame gaping age differences. There was no reason they couldn’t too. He’d just have to make her forget his age by distracting her with other things. Things like his charm and his kisses for starters.

  • • •

  Beth was grateful that Earl had given her the wooden crutch as she made her way across the yard to the school. Davy stomped ahead, breaking trail in the deep snow for her.

  “Look,” he said, pointing ahead.

  Smoke poured out the school chimney and she wondered if Bill had stopped on his way to the livery to light the fire for her. When she entered the school, she certainly didn’t expect to find Tom poking firewood into the heater.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Tom glanced over his shoulder. “Baking bread. What do you think I’m doing? I’m getting the fire going. And good morning, by the way,” he added cheerfully. “
Hi, Davy.” He gave the boy a light shoulder punch as he passed by. Davy presented a long face, clearly demonstrating he wasn’t at all pleased the holidays were over.

  “But starting the fire is my job,” Beth objected, removing her coat and scarf.

  Tom stood, closed the heater door, and then adjusted the grate openings and the damper. “I know, but with your bad ankle, I thought you could use the help. How’s it doing. anyway?”

  Beth hobbled up the aisle, the crutch bearing most of her weight. “Better, thank you.”

  “Good.” He strode over to the small cupboard behind her desk, retrieved the bottles of ink, frozen solid, and placed them around the heater’s edge to thaw. “You’ll have to keep an eye on these.”

  “I haven’t forgotten yet.”

  “I thought you might need some help putting away the decorations, but I see you’ve already done that.”

  “The day after the concert.”

  “I was kinda hoping maybe there was some mistletoe left hanging somewhere, but I don’t see any.”

  Beth smiled slightly. “Sorry, but I never put any up.”

  “I guess it might look like the schoolteacher was desperate for a beau.” There was a glint in his eye and a wide grin on his face.

  Suddenly Beth’s emotions were all in a tizzy. Her heart began to patter erratically. Oh, but he had a wonderful smile and she couldn’t help recalling how delightful his lips felt on hers. She never knew his kiss would be so delicious and he was only her friend. Just imagine what it would be like with someone she loved. She was jolted out of her musings when she realized she had her eyes closed and her lips pursed. She gave a sideways glance at Tom, praying he hadn’t seen her.

  Fortunately, Tom was speaking to Davy. “Hey, Bud, want to help with the water? I’ve got a surprise to tell you.”

  “You do? What?”

  Tom nodded his head toward the door. “I’ll tell you while we get the water.”

  Beth used the moment alone to collect herself. Quit acting like a foolish school girl. She took a few deep breaths and deliberately reminded herself, good kisser or not, Tom Carver was a threat. She couldn’t let her guard down. For all she knew he might be using the pretense of starting the morning fire so he could garner more information about her past. If he were to discover the truth — she forced herself to concentrate on school preparations.