Carol Ritten Smith Read online

  Tom chuckled and she turned to see what entertained him so. He was looking at her.

  “Isn’t life funny?” he commented with a half-smile. “Here I am, in a hotel room with my beautiful wife, and she’s acting as if she’s afraid of me, and by God, if I’m not acting the same way. Somehow I imagined our wedding day would be a little different.”

  He had introduced the subject and she knew if she wanted to talk to him about what he expected tonight, it was now or never. “Tom, I know you must be disappointed … I mean … with the boys and all.”

  Suddenly there was a quiet knock at the door and her opportunity to speak frankly with him was gone.

  “Guess who,” she said, her brows raised in a sheepish apology.

  “I think I already know.”

  It was Bill, looking embarrassed.

  “Uh … me and Davy are going to explore around town.” He nervously avoided looking Tom in the eye. “We won’t be back for a couple of hours … at least that … maybe more. I thought I should let you know.”

  Tom smiled. The boy had the subtlety of a whorehouse madam. “A walk around town sounds like a good idea. We’ll change and be down to join you in a couple of minutes. Wait for us in the lobby.”

  Bill looked surprised. “Ah … okay … good.” He bolted down the hall as the door closed.

  Chapter 23

  “Well, Mrs. Carver, we’ve been invited to see the sights of Tannerville. I would be honored to be your escort.” He bowed and presented his hand.

  She placed her hand in his. “Mr. Carver, I would be most pleased to accept your invitation.”

  They laughed, glad to have the mood lightened even for a moment. “I guess we’d better change.” Immediately the awkwardness returned.

  Sensing her reluctance to disrobe in front of him, Tom suggested he wait outside for a few minutes. He stood in the hall, receiving some quizzical stares as people passed to go to the lobby. A minute later, Beth opened the door a crack.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” she whispered. “I need your help. I can’t undo all the buttons.”

  Twenty pearl buttons trailed down the gown’s back and while she could unfasten most of them, she couldn’t manage those centered between her shoulder blades.

  Tom’s throat constricted. He’d resolved there would be no intimate contact tonight, but his decision to remain celibate was much easier to maintain when his lovely bride was fully clothed. Sweat formed under his starched white collar as his fingers fumbled nervously with the buttons. If he was affected this much undoing her buttons, how was he going to be able to lie next to her all night?

  “They’re tight little suckers,” he said, hoping she’d think that was the reason for his ineptitude. When the task was completed, Tom turned his back to face the wall. “If you don’t mind I’ll just wait in here. I feel kinda conspicuous standing in the hall.”

  “Oh … of course.”

  His ears strained, listening to the rustle of silk. What his eyes didn’t see, his imagination did. In his mind he saw her clad in only a chemise and drawers. Delicate lace …

  “Okay. You can look now.”

  She was already dressed in another outfit, neckline up to her chin and buttoned securely, sleeves full and cuffed tightly, bulking skirts adequately hiding her shape. Tom was surprised, and at the same time relieved. If she were just in her undergarments, as he’d imagined, he’d be hard put to meet the boys in the lobby in a few minutes.

  Hoping she wouldn’t notice he was fully aroused, he maneuvered around to the armoire to get a change of clothes. He glanced at Beth. She turned and stood with her back to him. Turning his back also, he peeled off his suit jacket and hung it up. He undid his trousers, let them drop, stepped out of them and then bent over to pick them up.

  Beth had the uncontrollable urge to peek, but when she caught sight of his white underwear, she quickly turned away, her cheeks flaming. She tried to forget what she had seen, but it was too late. The image of him bent over, his behind toward her was burned into her memory, and even with her eyes closed she could make out the strong shape of his buttocks. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Shame on you! What if Tom had peeked when you were dressing? And then she wondered, had he? Her heart pounded louder.

  “Are you almost ready?” she asked, anxious to escape her self-induced torture chamber.

  “Just about.”

  A second later, he stood in front of her. Lord, but he was handsome, she thought. With or without clothes. Pushing her racy thoughts aside, she strode toward the door, saying, “We’d better get downstairs.”

  But Tom caught her and pulled her back against his chest.

  “No, not yet,” he whispered. “There’s something I must know first.” He ran his hands gently down the front of her dress, over the swell of her pounding breasts to stop at her tummy. “Ever since we met there have been secrets. But there is no need any more, honey. We are husband and wife, ’til death do us part. Tell me,” his voice was a breathless whisper, “is there going to be a child?”

  Her answer was equally breathless. “Yes.” She tipped her head back to gaze at her new husband, and he saw the truth in her eyes and she saw the love in his. “We’re going to have a baby in December.”

  He came around her and bent to kiss her tenderly. “I am pleased beyond measure,” he whispered against her lips.

  • • •

  Tannerville had a population three times that of Whistle Creek and a main street twice as long. Being Sunday, the stores were closed, all except the restaurant in the hotel. They stopped there first for some freshly baked pie before going window shopping. Davy dragged Bill ahead down the street, bouncing with energy and excitement.

  They passed a brick building — the courthouse — and Tom glanced across at Beth. She was staring straight ahead, her head held proudly, but tears were glistening on her eyelashes. He knew what she was thinking. The same thoughts crossed his mind. What if they lost the boys? He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and left it there as they strolled down Main.

  “We have to tell Davy,” she said, her voice almost breaking.

  “I know. But not yet.” Their feet thudded on the boardwalk. It had a calming effect on them, almost like a mother’s heartbeat. “Let’s let him enjoy this day. We’ll tell him tomorrow, right after breakfast.”

  Beth nodded, watching her brothers. “Bill’s scared. He hides it well, but I can tell.”

  “We’re all scared.” This time Tom stopped. He turned Beth by the arm to face him, his grip tight. “Beth, I swear, even if we all have to move a thousand miles away, I won’t let Mead have the boys.”

  They continued their walk in grim silence.

  Three hours later, after having strolled up and down every street in Tannerville several times, they returned to the hotel. To pass the time before they went for supper, the boys played tic-tac-toe.

  They went down to the hotel restaurant late, and after the main course, Tom lingered over a second and third cup of coffee while the boys ate dessert. Davy chattered nonstop, a welcome distraction for the rest of them, but the thought of what tomorrow might bring was never far from their minds.

  When they returned to their room, they found two cots and extra blankets had been supplied. One was placed at the foot of the bed and the other on the side opposite the armoire, leaving very little floor space to move about in the crowded room.

  Beth and Davy played I spy, while Tom and Bill stared unseeingly at the walls. The moment the room became dim, Tom suggested they get to bed, saying, “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

  “Why? What are we doing?” Davy asked, his interest piqued.

  There was complete silence in the room. Bill’s head snapped around to look at Tom. Tom, in turn, looked in Beth’s direction, obviously at a loss for words.

  She came over and pressed her face close to Davy’s. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out … tomorrow. Right now, it’s bedtime. Out o
f your clothes, mister.”

  Davy stripped down to his underwear, causing her to fret about changing into her nightgown. Bad enough to have the first-night wedding jitters without having an audience. While Davy peeled, the other three in the room cast anxious glances at each other.

  Finally, Tom suggested, his words coming out croaky, “How ’bout Bill and I go down to the lobby while you two get into bed? It’s so crowded in here, we’ll be tripping over each other.”

  She almost sagged in relief. “Oh, yes, that would be fine.”

  Ten minutes later, with Beth safely on the far side of the bed and the blankets tucked up to her chin, Tom returned.

  “Where’s Bill?” Davy asked, sitting up in his cot.

  “He’ll be here in a minute.” Tom stole a quick glance across the room at his bride before extinguishing the lamp. Aided by the street’s gaslights filtering through the curtains, he began to change.

  She forced her eyes shut. Her ears strained to listen. The bed creaked, and Beth felt the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on the edge. She heard his shoes clunk on the floor, then the soft sliding sound of his pants coming off, first one leg and then the other. Presently, the bed creaked again, and his stocking feet padded around to the armoire. Its doors clicked open and coat hangers slid along the wooden bar inside. After a moment, she heard the door click again, follow by more footsteps.

  “Ouch! Confound it!”

  “What happened?” Beth’s eyes flew open. Tom was in his underwear, looking like a ghostly apparition, standing on one leg and holding the other foot in his hands.

  “I cracked my toe on this stupid cot.”

  “Sorry,” Davy whispered in the dark.

  “It’s not your fault,” Tom replied irritably. “It’s this tiny room. We’re crowded in here like fleas on a small dog. The hotel should make their rooms bigger.”

  But he and Beth knew it wasn’t the room’s size triggering his sour mood.

  Cool air seeped under the covers as he slid in beside her. He stayed on his side and she on hers, keeping a proper distance between them as if they were strangers instead of husband and wife.

  A couple minutes later Bill came along. He, too, undressed in the darkness, but dumped his clothes on the floor.

  “Great,” Bill muttered disgustedly, getting into his cot, “my feet stick out the end.”

  “You’ll just have to make the best of it like the rest of us.” Tom didn’t feel much compassion for the youth. If anyone had reason to complain, he did. He was in for one uncomfortable wedding night, sleeping five inches from his bride and not being able to make love to her as he so desired.

  “Are you all right, Davy?” Beth asked.

  There was no answer, leaving everyone to presume he was already asleep, but a minute later his little voice piped up, “Boy, did I ever give God lots to listen to tonight! I had to thank Him for a whole bunch of things … the wedding … and the ride on the train … and the supper. Oops! I forgot to thank Him for the dessert.”

  Beth smiled in the darkness and Tom chuckled. “He knows, Bud.”

  “Do you say prayers, Tom?” Davy queried in the dark.

  Beth waited in silence, realizing she didn’t know how he would answer. In fact, she knew very little about her new husband or his daily habits.

  “Ah … well … I used to. I guess I sort of let it slip.” By God, if he wasn’t blushing.

  “You should say prayers,” Davy lectured. “I prayed things would work out for us in Whistle Creek and they did.”

  The boy’s confession tore at Tom’s heart. “Well, I guess I’d better start again. Goodnight, Davy.”

  “Will everyone just shut up? How’s a fella supposed to sleep with all this yappin’?” Bill grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach. His toes dangled over the edge of the cot.

  “Goodnight, Bill.”

  “Hmph!”

  Under the covers, Tom’s hand searched out Beth’s. Their fingers laced together, the only joining of their bodies circumstances would allow.

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Carver,” he whispered.

  Her reply was barely audible. “Goodnight.”

  He rolled onto his side, facing away from her and she did likewise. Their worries about tomorrow were intertwined with their yearnings of the night and when sleep finally came, it was long overdue.

  • • •

  Breakfast was eaten with the solemnity of the Last Supper. Beth sipped on tea, discreetly adding what Doc Fisher had given her to curb the morning sickness. Tom watched her guardedly as he drank his coffee.

  Bill ordered a big breakfast, but didn’t eat it all. Only Davy did his breakfast justice, polishing off his own and then eating some of Bill’s.

  Later he skipped ahead back to the room, while the rest followed with heavy feet.

  “So what are we going to do today? Can we go shopping?” he asked, once again bouncing on the bed.

  Beth looked at Tom, but he seemed as reluctant to tell Davy as she was. “Maybe we’ll go shopping later,” she said, “but we have something we have to tell you first.”

  Davy gave one more hop and landed on his rump. He wiggled until he was sitting at the edge. Tom sat beside him and draped his strong arm around him as if to brace him for the news. Bill leaned against the wall for support.

  “Davy, what we have to say is something none of us wanted ever to happen,” Beth began.

  “What do you mean?” His happiness disappeared, replaced with a worried frown. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

  The situation became too intense for Bill and he bolted from the room.

  “Bill, come back!”

  “Leave him be,” Tom advised. “He doesn’t need to be here for this.” He shifted around, at the same time turning Davy by his narrow shoulders to face him. There was no easy way to do this so he came right out with it. “Son, your Uncle Mead is alive and has come to try to take you and Bill back.”

  Davy stared at Tom. Then his face twisted with rage and he slammed his fists into Tom’s gut, pummeling him. He screamed, “No, no, no.” Tom didn’t try to restrain the boy. Davy had every right to feel angry, and better it was vented at him than at his sister.

  Beth tried to intervene, but Tom raised his hand to stop her.

  When Davy’s rage was finally spent, he began to sob and Tom held him against his shirtfront.

  “Don’t let him t … take me,” he wailed, sucking in big gulps of air. “Please d … don’t let him t … take me.”

  It would have been easier to cut out his own heart than to listen to Davy beg like that. “I won’t. I promise,” he answered, vowing somehow he would keep his word.

  Beth sat on the bed on the other side of Davy. Tom wrapped his arms around them both and the three of them clung together.

  Davy wailed for a long time and then suddenly he wrestled back, pushing against Tom’s chest to get free. Startled, Tom released him, allotting him just enough time to lean out over the floor before throwing up all of his breakfast.

  And then he was crying about that, half choking as he vomited and wept. When it was all over, he ran into a corner, trying to hide from them.

  It was the worst ten minutes of Tom’s life and the ashen look on Beth’s face told him it was hers too.

  “I’ll go get something to clean this up.” He rose from the bed.

  Beth nodded and went to the corner where she dragged Davy back into the sanctuary of her arms.

  Tom found Bill in the hallway, staring out the window. Bill turned around. “How did it go?”

  “Bad. He cried so hard he threw up. I’m going to get a mop.”

  “I couldn’t stay.”

  Tom placed a hand on the youth’s shoulder. “It’s all right. I understand.”

  When Tom returned a few minutes later with a bucket and a mop, Bill was still staring out the window.

  Beth was lying on the bed with her little brother’s back cradled against her stomach. She hummed a soothing melody to him, and so
on his sobs abated, and he laid on the bed, looking like a beaten pup.

  Tom cleaned up the murky puddle on the hardwood floor, carrying the bucket and mop back to the bathroom. When he returned to the room, Davy was asleep, still held by Beth. Tom whispered quietly in her ear, “The train will be in soon. I should go meet Lanson.”

  She nodded.

  “Will you be all right?”

  She nodded again and he dropped a kiss on her temple.

  In the hall, he stopped beside Bill. “Wanna come meet the train with me?”

  “Sure,” he answered, going first. His quivering voice told Tom he was close to crying.

  Chapter 24

  The train was late. As soon as the conductor put the step down, Aaron Lanson shot off the train like a bullet from a forty-five. Livid, his face, flushed with anger, and his gate, long and determined, Lanson crossed through the stationhouse to the main street.

  Mead Parkerson, his face just as red, rushed along behind Lanson, giving him an earful. Finally the lawyer turned and, competing with the din of the crowd gathered to greet the train, yelled, “Listen, if you do not shut up, I will shove my fist down your filthy throat and pull out your voice box.”

  “Did you hear him?” Mead grabbed another passenger walking by. “He threatened me!”

  “Yeah? Good for him! He’d be doing the world a favor if he could shut you up for five minutes.”

  “I want to see a lawyer. Where is the nearest lawyer?”

  Lanson pointed down the street. “Last business on the left. I look forward to our time in court.” Under his breath, he added, “I hope the judge throws you behind bars where you belong.”

  Parkerson snorted, did an about-turn, took one step and collided with Tom’s chest. Mead looked up, surprised. “You again? What the hell was in that drink you had made for me last night? I darn near — ” Suddenly he frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to guarantee you never bother my wife and her brothers ever again.”

  It took a moment to register, then Mead huffed. “You? You married Beth?”