Carol Ritten Smith Read online

  Chapter 15

  It was pitch dark inside the small house. The only sound was their angry breathing. Finally Tom said, “Well, are you going to light the lantern or not? We need to talk.”

  From the darkness, Beth snapped, “We have nothing to talk about!”

  Cursing silently, Tom felt along the wall until he located the lantern, fumbled with the matches in the adjacent tin box, and lit the lamp. At least now he could see her, though she was on the far side of the room with her back to him.

  Anger and frustration surged through him and he reminded himself that he could make things worse if he didn’t watch what he said. He dragged in a deep breath and started again, far more quietly. “Beth, please. Let me explain.”

  She harrumphed in response.

  He hadn’t expected her to make it easy for him. But maybe if he explained why he had behaved like an idiot she might consider forgiving him. “Lewie and I have some bad history between us and I let my opinion of him cloud my better judgment.” She offered no response. “I know that doesn’t excuse my behavior,” he continued, “but I truly am sorry.”

  If only she would turn to face him, but she didn’t, not even when she said, “You practically blamed me. Like it was my fault he wanted to borrow a book. You acted as if you were jealous.”

  “Maybe I was. I don’t know.”

  “But jealous of Lewie? That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know, but love can make you do ridiculous things. You must know by now that I love you.” His words hung suspended in the room, as if waiting for a response that never came. “I’d do anything to take back what I said and did, but I can’t. The best I can do is promise it won’t happen again.”

  Slowly, Beth’s head turned. “You love me?” she asked, looking incredulous.

  “With all my heart.”

  She shook her head. “But why? I’ve been nothing but trouble since the day we met.”

  Tom smiled. “True, we have had our difficulties, but we’ve also had some wonderful moments. Good times or bad, Beth, I love being with you.

  “You love me,” she whispered again. “Other than my parents and Davy, no one has ever said they loved me.”

  Her admission nearly crushed Tom’s heart. “Ah, Beth. Come here.” He opened his arms.

  She went into them willingly.

  His arms, the size of stovepipes, came around her and her soft body slumped against him. Oh, that he could hold her in his arms forever. He wanted to provide and protect her. He wanted to love her and make love to her. He wanted to spend a lifetime making her happy.

  His finger gently lifted her chin and he kissed her lips tenderly until he felt them part with a sigh. His tongue traced between them, lightly coaxing her to allow him further entry. She opened her mouth wider in invitation. His tongue probed fully inside and she moaned. He pulled her hard against him.

  Their kiss lengthened and deepened. Their breathing escalated to hungry gasps. Their hearts thrummed in unison.

  Tom’s lips pulled away. “Ah, Beth,” he whispered, “there’s more between us than either of us dare to admit.” Then he closed his mouth over hers again.

  They lost themselves in each other. Their heads twisted this way, then that. Their impassioned kisses crushed and bruised their lips against their teeth. It was nothing either of them had ever experienced before, hot and urgent and needy. But even as a raging fire burns down to embers, eventually their passion abated to soft kisses.

  Tom led her to a chair, then sat and pulled her onto his lap. She nestled her head against the crook of his neck and released a contented sigh.

  “What are you thinking?” he whispered.

  She didn’t answer right away. After a moment he heard her whisper, “I like it when you kiss me.”

  Tom chuckled lightly. “Me too.” He hugged her closer.

  Everything seemed so serene, so silent. Then as quietly as the snow falling outside, Tom whispered against the top of her head, “I love you, Beth. Please don’t ever doubt that. You have captured my heart as no woman ever has. You would make me the happiest man on earth if you would marry me.”

  • • •

  Beth’s heart dropped. Though her entire being wanted to say yes, she knew the desperate reality of her situation made marriage impossible. She pulled away from his embrace and turned in his lap to face him. “Tom, we barely know each other. You don’t know me.”

  “What more is there to know?”

  “A lot.”

  “Then tell me,” he urged.

  Dismally she rose and crossed to the window. Staring out at the flakes, she shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” She discreetly brushed away a tear.

  Tom came to stand behind her and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I told myself to be patient, but my feelings are so strong, I can’t help myself. Beth, I need you in my life and I think you need me too. You have feelings for me. I’ve felt it in your kisses.” She bowed her head. “Maybe you don’t love me yet, but I’m positive you will. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I’ll be a good and faithful husband to you.”

  Yes, you would, she thought. Tom was an honest man, a man of his word. A decent man like him would only hate her for what she had done.

  “Is it because of the boys?” he asked.

  Bewildered, she looked at him.

  “You know I’ll take care of them. They can stay with us. The house is big enough or we can add on if need be.” He stroked her hair. “Just promise me you’ll at least consider my proposal. Please?”

  She nodded slowly, only to appease him. “I’ll consider it,” she said, but in her heart she knew marriage to Tom was impossible. He knew nothing of her except the lies she’d told him, and she cared enough not to hurt him further by building a marriage on a foundation of deceit.

  • • •

  Later, in their houses at the opposite ends of Whistle Creek, Tom and Beth both lay awake, trying to make sense of their emotions and what had happened that night. Their thoughts ran parallel, yet separate.

  Damn, why did I blurt out marriage?

  Why did he have to ask me?

  I should have known she’d say no.

  If only I could have answered yes.

  I was so wound up in my own feelings, I never considered hers.

  There are more than my own feelings to consider. There’s Bill and Davy’s.

  I frightened her, moving too fast.

  I am so afraid to lose him.

  But I can’t help it. I love her.

  God help me, but I think I love him.

  She will learn to love me, given time.

  In time, he would grow to hate me.

  Someday we will have a future together.

  There can never be a future for us.

  And we shall share more than kisses.

  How will I manage without his kisses?

  • • •

  Days after his proposal, Beth’s emotions still wavered back and forth. She had fallen in love with Tom. She hadn’t wanted to, but it had happened. And she believed him when he said he loved her. But the problem wasn’t that he loved her. The problem was did he love her enough? She wrestled with that thought. If she married him and he found out later about her unlawful past, would he forgive her or would he end the marriage? Or worse yet, would he continue the marriage, despising her and every moment they were together?

  Beth set her pencil on the kitchen table. She might as well give up on next week’s lesson planning, since concentration was as elusive as the answer to her dilemma. Could she dare marry Tom? Had she no brothers, Beth might have gambled her future on his love. But when she considered Davy and Bill, the risk was too much. They needed to maintain a low profile. As Tom’s wife, she would receive far too much attention and she would have to consider everything she said — to Tom and to the townsfolk. One slip-up and the entire sham would be exposed.

  As much as her heart ached at the thought, she knew she would have to turn
down Tom’s proposal. And if she couldn’t share her life with him, it would be easier if she never saw him again. No, she bemoaned, not easier, but wiser. She knew each time she saw him about town, her heart would clench.

  It seemed her past would ruin every future aspect of her life. A single tear slid from the corner of her eye. With great effort, she stifled any further tears that threatened to come. Crying would not help her situation, no matter how good it might feel.

  She considered her options and decided the smartest thing to do would be to leave Whistle Creek. She loathed the thought of uprooting Bill and Davy, especially when they were both doing so well here. It suddenly struck her that maybe she didn’t have to take her brothers with her. What would happen if they stayed behind and only she left? Bill would manage, but what about Davy? How could she possibly contemplate leaving him behind? He was so young and had already lost too many of his immediate family. No matter how she looked at her predicament, she couldn’t come to a single resolution that didn’t break her heart.

  She rose from the table. “I’m going to lie down, Davy. I have a headache. Wake me when Bill gets home from work.”

  Davy was sprawled out on the floor, playing with sticks he’d recently whittled into what he thought resembled farm animals. “Okay.” He barely looked up from his play.

  It wasn’t long after Beth’s head sank into her pillow, she drifted off to sleep. Sadly, it was anything but peaceful. A gruesome shadow surfaced from her fugitive past and it reached out a long fleshless finger to point at her. You, it wailed. You did this to me. The shadow moved closer, congealing into darkness, moving forward, suffocating Beth with its nearness. Death’s face loomed before her now, skin hanging in decay. She knew this death by name. Uncle Mead. His lips peeled back, revealing stained teeth imbedded in a gray jaw. It opened and a long black vapor escaped. Choking, Beth struck out at the ghost of her uncle. Leave us alone. You’re dead. Leave us alone. Beth’s arms flailed.

  A crashing sound brought her bolt upright in bed and rescued her from her nightmare. Yet when she took a breath, she still couldn’t get air. Suddenly the fogginess of her mind cleared completely. Fire! She flew from her bed and into the kitchen.

  There was no fire, but soot and smoke rolled across the floor, and more billowed up from the open end of the stovepipe. A wooden orange crate leaned against a chair that had tipped on its side. Beyond the chair and crate lay another smoke-spewing length of pipe. Davy stood there, shaking his head. Then he started coughing.

  Before they were overcome by smoke, Beth grabbed his arm and hauled him outside.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  Two white eyeballs stared out forlornly from Davy’s black sooty face. “Nothing.”

  “You call this nothing? I try to rest for ten minutes and look what happens. What did you do?”

  “I didn’t think the stove was drawing right so I tried to adjust the damper.”

  “The stove was drawing fine.”

  “But I was cold so I added more wood.”

  Beth felt herself getting angrier by the minute. “How much wood?”

  Davy stared at his feet. “Till it was full.”

  Beth gave her brother a well-deserved shake. “You could have caused a chimney fire!”

  “But I was watching it, Beth, and when the fire got too big I threw in a bucket of water. That’s when I needed to adjust the damper.”

  Beth was exasperated. “You were supposed to be playing with your animals, not fiddling with the stove. Now there’s an awful mess to clean up.” Shivering, she crossed her arms in front of her and watched the soot settle, turning the snow outside the door black. “How did you think you could turn the damper? I can barely reach it.”

  “I stood on a chair … with an orange crate on top,” he added sheepishly. “I guess it was too tippy.”

  “Obviously! You’re lucky you weren’t burnt.” Lucky the whole place didn’t burn.

  Bill arrived and, after assessing the situation, cupped his hand over his nose and mouth, raced inside and quickly reconnected the stovepipe. On his way back outside, he grabbed Beth and Davy’s coats.

  “What a mess.”

  “It’s my fault,” Davy confessed, near tears.

  Beth shrugged into her coat. “Never mind that now. We’d better get it cleaned up.”

  “There’s no point doin’ it tonight,” Bill said. “It’s still too smoky to breathe in there. We’ll clean it tomorrow.”

  “And just where do you suggest we stay then?” Beth snapped.

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me.”

  For once Bill was right. Getting angry was futile. Better to transform her rage into something productive. “Let’s all think. If Mary and Earl were home, I’m sure we could go there, but she told me at the dance they were going to Tannerville this weekend and wouldn’t be home till Tuesday.”

  “We could go to Tom’s,” Davy submitted.

  “No!” Bill and Beth answered in unison.

  “What about staying at Annaleese’s home?” Beth asked.

  Bill shook his head. “I don’t think so. I just left there and Mrs. Hewn isn’t feeling well.”

  “You’re right. If she’s ill, she certainly doesn’t need company.”

  Davy brightened. “I know, we could sleep at the school again, like we did when it stormed.”

  Beth tried to envision another night at the school. “Surely there has to be some place more comfortable.” The possibilities were slim.

  Davy started to whine. “I’m cold. I wanna go to Tom’s.”

  “We are not going to Tom’s!”

  Half an hour later, for lack of a better solution, the three headed to the Carver place. Bill lagged far behind grumbling the entire way he wouldn’t accept charity from that man while Beth reminded herself again and again to guard her emotions. And if he were to press her about his proposal she would have to be direct and make sure he understood in no uncertain terms that she would not marry him. She prayed he would drop the subject. Oh, why couldn’t they just remain friends and leave it at that? Falling in love complicated everything.

  Tom answered the knock at his door, took one look at Davy’s sooty face, and gave a wry grin. “Stove trouble?”

  “It was my fault,” Davy confessed again, biting his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “I was fiddling with the stove.”

  Tom wisely refrained from comment.

  “We didn’t know where else to go,” Beth explained, wishing she could pull her attention away from Tom’s lips. “I know it’s an imposition, but could we stay the night? The floor and walls of our place are covered with soot.”

  “Come in. I’ve got plenty of room.” He stepped aside.

  Beth and Davy entered and Tom stuck his head out the door, glancing both ways. “Where’s Bill?”

  “He wouldn’t come in. He’s in your barn.”

  “That figures.” He hung up their coats. “Make yourself at home. I was just about to make some coffee. Want some?”

  Beth pulled out a chair on the far side of the table. “No thanks. But don’t let us stop you.”

  Tom shrugged. “I’ll have one later.” He turned to Davy. “Looks like you could use a bath, Bud.”

  “I just had one yesterday.”

  “You should have thought of that before you fiddled with stove. Here, use this to get off the worst.” He handed Davy an old rag before dragging the galvanized washtub, standing on end in the corner, to the center of the kitchen.

  When he started pailing water across from the copper boiler on the stove, Beth jumped up. “I can do that.”

  “It’s all right. Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

  Feeling useless and uneasy, she sat again. She guardedly looked around the kitchen, taking in the cook stove and its shiny black top, noting the dry sink with a towel neatly folded on the bar in front. She longed to touch the dishes kept in the glass-windowed cupboard. Everything was in its place. Tom kept a tidy kitchen and this could have been her
kitchen if the situation were different. She imagined them having supper around the table. Doing the dishes together. Extinguishing all the lanterns, except the one that would light their way to their bedroom.

  The clatter of the pail against the stove brought Beth from her thoughts. “There you go,” Tom said, straightening up. “Peel and hop in, Bud, before the water gets too cool.” He lifted his coat from a hook. “I’ll just go to the barn, see if I can convince Bill to come inside.”

  Her face felt flushed. “Fine. Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

  As soon as the door closed, Davy started shucking his dirty clothes. His naked body was lily-white except for his still somewhat sooty hands and face. He eased himself into the water.

  Wearily, Beth bent over the tub. “Lean back and wet your hair so I can wash it,” she instructed, grabbing the lye soap.

  Davy did as he was told, stretching out in the tub. As she rubbed the bar over his hair, she idly ran her eyes up and down his skinny length. They paused momentarily to watch his little penis bob like a cork in the water.

  Davy opened one eye a crack and stated, “Tom has a big one.”

  “I beg your pardon!” The bar of soap shot out of her hand and landed, plop, in the water.

  “Tom has a big bathtub. I can lay right out.”

  “Oh … yes … yes, it’s big.” Flustered, she hastily finished scrubbing his head, desperately trying to erase the unsettling image that Davy’s comment evoked.

  “Now sit up and I’ll rinse you.” She used the dipper sitting on the table and poured water over Davy’s head. That done, she washed his back and then handed him the bar of soap. “You can do the rest. Hurry now, but do a good job.”

  • • •

  Tom found Bill settled back into a stack of loose straw, his hands folded behind his head. “Hi,” he said, not at all surprised by Bill’s lack of response. “I just thought I’d tell you there’s an extra bed upstairs you and Davy can share. ’Course if you’d rather stay out here, well, that’s fine by me.”

  Bill gave no indication of preference so Tom pointed to a wooden box, saying. “I keep a couple of horse blankets in the trunk over there if you get cold,” and then he departed. He wasn’t going to coddle Bill.