“That’s because I was close-minded and couldn’t see past my own experiences.”
Her head spun toward his and the open vulnerability in her eyes branded his heart. For the first time in his life, he wished he were the kind of man who knew how to woo a woman with pretty words. With his luck, though, he’d mangle the attempt and trample her feelings. He’d have to show her instead.
Slowly, he drew her hands from the water and dried them with his towel, aware that she was watching his movements. He ran his palm up her arm and cupped her shoulder. Then, unable to resist, he traced the shape of that delightful hollow at the base of her neck with his fingertip. A tremor passed through her, and the nearly inaudible sound of her breath catching made his pulse throb.
He slipped his hand around the back of her neck. His fingers toyed with the downy hair at her nape while his thumb caressed her cheek and ear. Hannah’s lashes fluttered closed, then languidly lifted to reveal eyes darkened to a midnight blue. Her lips parted slightly, and he extracted his hand just enough to trail his thumb across their softness.
“I was wrong,” he murmured. “No one could be more suitable.”
Digging his fingers into her hair, he dragged her close and lowered his mouth.
The front door banged closed. Hannah jumped and tried to pull out of his embrace, but he wasn’t quite ready to let her go. He might never be.
“Jericho.” Hannah’s frantic whisper restored his common sense, and he allowed the slender fingers that had been clutching his shirt a moment ago to push him away.
Delia stood in the doorway, looking from him to Hannah and back again. He positioned himself in front of Hannah, trying to absorb the majority of the scrutiny, while mentally listing all the reasons he shouldn’t strangle his sister.
“Warren leave?” he groused.
“Not happily, but yes, he accepted my refusal and left.” She cocked a hip and planted her fist against it. “You know, he could have been out there compromising my virtue for all the attention you paid. Get distracted, J.T.?”
He snatched the towel from the floor and threw it at her. “Finish up the dishes while I walk Miss Richards home.” Taking Hannah’s hand, he tugged her toward the door, but after a few faltering steps, she stopped.
“Wait,” she said. “Cordelia invited me here tonight in order to have someone to talk to after Mr. Hawkins left.” Her face was glowing as red as a radish, yet instead of taking the escape he’d offered, she was holding firm to her promise. “Why don’t you finish the dishes while Cordelia and I talk? I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go.”
“Yeah, big brother. Finish the dishes.” The imp tossed the towel in his face and then giggled as she absconded with Hannah, the two disappearing behind the door of her bedroom.
Comforting himself with the fact that he could still look forward to escorting Hannah home, J.T. rolled up his sleeves and plunged his hands into the lukewarm water. He never thought he’d be reduced to doing dishes while the two women he loved talked about him behind closed doors.
The tip of a knife jabbed his finger as that thought took hold. The women he loved. He loved Hannah.
J.T. stuck his pricked finger into his mouth to stem the trickle of blood, then dunked it back in the water.
Father had always warned him that love made a man do crazy things. He’d been right. Two able-bodied women were currently under his roof, yet he was the one doing the dishes.
CHAPTER 28
“Did he kiss you?”
Hannah sighed and pressed her shoulder blades into the closed door, wishing she could give an affirmative answer to that question. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, remember?”
Cordelia tucked a leg beneath her and sat on the bed. She bounced on the mattress and grinned. “Well, did he?”
Hannah couldn’t quite meet Cordelia’s eye. “Almost.”
Her friend moaned and flopped backward on the bed. “I should have put up with Warren for a few more minutes.”
Yes, Hannah’s heart cried, but her mind knew better. She moved to the bed and sat on the corner next to her recumbent friend. “Of course not. Now, tell me how things went out there.”
Cordelia rolled onto her side to face Hannah. “Some good, some bad. He apologized for waiting so long to tell me of his feelings and then springing them on me without any warning.” She fiddled with a button on the front of her dress. “We reminisced a little, which was nice, but then he showed me the ring he’d picked out from his father’s store. I panicked.”
“Did he propose again?”
“I didn’t let him.” She finally looked up. “Oh, Hannah, I didn’t want to hurt him. I thanked him for being a good friend to me, but he kept shoving that ring in my face as if it would change my mind. I worried that if I didn’t escape soon, he would seize my hand and force it onto my finger against my will. I scurried toward the door, said that I was sorry, but I didn’t love him the way a wife should love a husband, wished him a good night, and retreated into the house, leaving him out on the porch all by himself.” She flopped onto her back and covered her eyes with her arm. “I’ve never been so rude to anyone in all my life. I feel horrible about it.”
“Well, don’t.” Hannah drew Cordelia’s arm away from her face and tugged her up into a sitting position. “Warren was much too forward. He frightened you. You had every right to flee. It would have been foolish not to.”
Cordelia laid her head on Hannah’s shoulder. “I was so afraid J.T. would storm out and beat Warren to a pulp. When I realized he’d been too hung up on you to even notice what happened, I counted my blessings. I may not want to marry Warren, but I’m not anxious to see him pulverized, either.”
A tinge of guilt overshadowed Hannah’s joy. What if Cordelia had truly been in trouble? She never would have forgiven herself if she had kept Jericho from intervening.
The thought must have shown on her face, for when Cordelia lifted her head, she gave Hannah a little swat on the arm. “Don’t go blaming yourself for anything. If I had needed J.T.’s help, I would have made enough noise to catch his attention. He was distracted, not deaf.”
“Just the same, I’m glad you won’t have to deal with Warren any longer. He won’t continue pursuing you, will he?”
“No. He’s not the type to ignore my wishes. He might sulk for a while, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped speaking to me, but things will clear up between us eventually. They always do.”
“Well, then.” Hannah squeezed Cordelia’s hand. “Let’s put Warren out of our minds for now and focus on Ike, shall we?”
Cordelia grinned and bobbed her head in agreement.
“Founders’ Day is only a week away. You and Ike will be together for an entire afternoon. A new dress, a shared picnic, a chance to sneak away from the crowd to talk and possibly even share a kiss.”
“If only I could be so lucky.”
“We’re not going to wait on luck.” Hannah arched her brow and gave Cordelia a conspiratorial wink.
“What’s dancing around in that mind of yours, Hannah Richards?”
“I might not be able to make Ike kiss you, but I have a plan to ensure he gets a window of opportunity should he wish to try.”
Founders’ Day arrived, and J.T. found himself in the kitchen again, this time fetching and carrying for his sister.
“Place the two covered dishes in the first crate and the stockpot full of fried chicken in the second while I finish up these deviled eggs.” Her skirt billowed out behind her as she dashed about the room, turning in circles fast enough to make him dizzy.
“What’s in the covered dishes?” He thought of just lifting the lids and seeing for himself, but when Delia was in a tizzy, one didn’t touch her food unless he was ready for a smack from a wooden spoon or some other handy utensil. There were too many knives within her reach for him to tempt fate.
“Carrot salad in one, potato in the other.” She didn’t spare him a glance as she mashed boiled egg yolks with the back
of a silver spoon. “You also need to pack two jars of my pickles. One sweet. One dill.”
J.T. lugged the heavy dishes to the waiting crates. “You sure you got enough food, sis?”
Delia stopped mashing her yolks for a second and bit her lip. “Maybe not. With Louisa and her brood joining us, as well . . . I thought I had enough, but . . . Better throw in an extra loaf of bread and some apple butter.”
“I was kidding.” J.T. chuckled and shook his head at her. “You have enough here to feed the entire town. It’s a good thing no one rented the General. We’ll need that freight wagon to haul all this stuff to the mill pond. Besides, Hannah and Louisa are contributing, too.”
She glared at him. “Just the same, add the apple butter. I already have two bread loaves packed in the basket with the pound cake and cookies. Hannah is bringing a batch of biscuits and preserves, so we probably won’t need the extra loaf. Louisa said she’d bring sliced ham sandwiches to go with the chicken.”
He dug out the jar of apple butter and carried the crates and bread basket out to the wagon. When he returned, Delia had the egg halves back together and skewered with a mess of his toothpicks. She piled them in a small pail and covered them with a checkered cloth. “Don’t take this one out until we’re ready to go, and then make sure to keep it out of the sun.”
“Aye, Captain.” J.T. took the pail from her and saluted.
She shoved him. “Stop it, you rascal. I need to get changed.” Delia flounced past him, then stopped short. “Oh! I completely forgot about the tin plates, napkins, forks.”
J.T. steered her back toward her room. “I’ll gather all that stuff. Go get ready. At this rate, the activities are going to be half over before we get there.”
With a reluctant nod, she headed off to change. She couldn’t let him handle things completely, though, for every few minutes she shouted through the closed door for him to pack something else. A bread knife, the box of tumblers for the lemonade and cider that would be available, two or three old quilts, and on and on until he started to doubt they’d have any room left in the wagon for passengers.
Once everything was finally loaded, J.T. pulled his suit coat from the back of a kitchen chair and slipped his arms into the sleeves. It seemed backward to him to dress up in his Sunday best for a picnic, but women insisted on wearing their finest to these rare social events, and their men were expected to follow suit. He settled the wool coat on his shoulders, gave it a tug, and strode down the hall to rap on Delia’s door. “Come on. You’ve primped enough. Ike’s going to think you stood him up if we don’t get a move on.”
The hinges creaked as she eased the door open. Delia took a tentative step, then bit her lip and ran a hand down the front of her dress. “I feel like I’m a little girl again, dressing up in Mama’s clothes. Do I look ridiculous?”
J.T. couldn’t speak. He just stared at the lovely woman his sister had become, wondering how he could have missed seeing it until this moment. The dress’s green fabric warmed her complexion and brought her face to life. At the same time, the tailored top and striped skirt flattered her figure, nipping in at her newly trim waist and hinting at the curves that remained beneath. She’d even refashioned her bonnet, adding a green ribbon and delicate sprigs of flowers. Hannah had brought the butterfly out of her cocoon. A little color, a sophisticated design, and several weeks of friendship and encouragement had turned a plain Delia into a rare beauty.
He held his hand out to her and led her into the hall so he could make a circle around her. When he faced her again, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You look stunning, Delia. Truly. Not even our mother could compare.”
“Do you think Ike will approve?”
Offering Delia his arm, J.T. swallowed his guffaw. “Darlin’, I doubt he’ll be able to take his eyes off of you long enough to do much else.”
Seeing her face light up in pleasure warmed J.T.’s heart. He had kept her a prisoner in those drab dresses for too long. Come Christmas, he’d buy her lengths of cloth in sunshine yellow, bluebonnet blue, and prairie grass green to replace her navy, brown, and gray housedresses. Practical could still be pretty.
And wouldn’t Hannah laugh her hat off if she ever heard him say such a thing.
They closed up the house and headed to Louisa’s place. The three kids whooped and danced about as J.T. turned the wagon and parked in front of the laundry. Louisa scolded them halfheartedly, unable to keep her smile at bay. Their contagious excitement soon infected them all.
J.T. took her basket laden with still more food and packed it away with the rest of the feast while Louisa fussed over Delia’s new dress and shared tips on how best to clean the lightweight wool fabric. The kids scrambled into the bed of the wagon, eager to be on their way. As J.T. rearranged things to maximize space, Tessa jumped to her feet and waved vigorously.
“Miss Hannah! Miss Hannah! Are you ready for the picnic?”
A low laugh sounded behind him. “I most certainly am. And I brought something for all of us to play with after the games are through.”
J.T. turned to greet her as the kids clamored for her to show them the surprise that her left hand secreted behind her flowing skirts. He didn’t recognize the wine-colored dress she wore, but it did a marvelous job of accentuating her slim figure and setting off her pale hair. The design was simple and almost plain in comparison to Delia’s, yet she carried it with such elegance that, to him, she looked like a queen.
Hannah glanced at him as she neared his side and offered a secret smile that immediately set his mind on kisses and long private walks.
“If Mr. Tucker would be so good as to take this pie for me, I’ll show you what I brought.”
He reached beneath the pie plate in her right hand and grazed her fingers. Making a show of holding the dessert to his nose, he drew whisper-soft circles on the back of her wrist. “Mmmm. Smells like apple.” Then he tilted his head to meet her gaze. “I can’t wait for a taste.”
Fire rose in her cheeks, and she snatched her hand away so fast he nearly dropped the pie. The basket hanging from the crook of her right elbow swung precariously until she steadied it with her hip. She straightened her arm and angled it downward until the handle of the basket slipped into her hand. Then she thrust it at him with a chiding glance that made him laugh.
Throughout it all, she kept her surprise safely out of the children’s view with her opposite arm. Stepping away from him, she pulled it out from behind her skirts with a flourish.
“A kite!” Tessa hopped up and down, clapping her hands. The wagon creaked in protest, but no one seemed to care. “And you used the pretty material I like so much. Can I fly it first?”
Danny shot to his feet. “I’m the oldest. I should go first.”
“What about me?” Mollie whined.
Hannah grinned at the children. “Everyone will get a turn. I promise.” Then her eyes narrowed. “But the next person who asks to go first will wait the longest.”
Each little mouth closed, and all three youngsters plopped back down on their bottoms. J.T. was duly impressed.
Reaching around her, he wedged the pie into a protected corner and found a place for the basket, as well. He pivoted back to Hannah and held his palm out. “Your kite, milady?”
She curtsied and handed it to him. “Why, thank you, Sir Tucker. Take care, though. The fabric is wont to snag.”
J.T. bowed in return, and the children giggled at their antics. The fabric in question was a rich violet hue that shimmered in the sunlight. He ran his finger across the kite’s diamond-shaped body. Its smooth, luxurious texture surprised him.
“Is this silk?” he whispered in her ear.
“Just a small piece.” She kept smiling at the children as she spoke to him out of the corner of her mouth. “Tessa has admired that cloth for weeks. This way she can enjoy it.”
It had to be one of the most expensive fabrics she carried in her shop, yet she’d made it into a kite to please an eight-year-old girl. “You kno
w it’ll probably just get hung up in a tree, right?”
“I certainly hope so.” This time she turned her smile on him. “Half the fun of kite flying is rescuing them when they go astray.”
Her frolicsome spirit charmed him, heightening his anticipation of spending the day with her.
“All right, everyone,” he announced in a loud voice. “Load up. We’ve got a picnic to go to.”
J.T. carefully balanced the kite frame between the bread and sandwich baskets while Louisa seated herself on the tailgate of the wagon, her feet dangling above the road.
“I’ll sit back here with my young’uns,” she said, waving off J.T.’s offer to ride up front. “That there driver’s seat will be crowded enough without me trying to cram in, too.”
J.T. tipped his hat to her and made his way to the other ladies waiting patiently for his assistance. He made sure to hand Hannah up first so she could sit next to him. Settling beside her, glad for the tight quarters as his leg pressed against hers, he took up the reins and released the brake. “Everybody ready?”
A chorus of affirmative responses rang out, the women in the front equaling the volume of the kids in the rear. Grinning like a kid himself, J.T. snapped the leather straps and set the vehicle in motion. Something told him this would be a Founders’ Day he’d not soon forget.
CHAPTER 29
Thanks to the group’s high spirits, Hannah didn’t think about their need to cross the river at the ill-fated bridge until it was upon them. She tried to hide her unease beneath a pasted-on smile, but Jericho must have felt her tension, for he took her hand and hooked it under his arm before they reached the wooden structure. Grateful to have something solid to hold on to, and equally grateful that he had the good sense to keep both hands on the reins, Hannah gripped his bicep, comforted by the undeniable strength of the muscle beneath her fingers.
The wheels rolled onto the bridge planks, making a series of hollow thumps. The kids chattered, wind strummed through the river birch leaves, and the horses’ hooves clip-clopped in a blend of sound that would have brought a sense of peaceful harmony to any other listener. Yet the roar in Hannah’s memory drowned out the gentle song. Her hold on Jericho’s arm tightened.