Lips That Touch Mine (38 page)

Desmona ignored him and jabbed the nose of
the gun into Claire's gut. "Get that diary."

"How dare you accost my daughter!" Her
father's outraged voice boomed through the foyer. He shifted his
stance, but Desmona drew back the hammer on the revolver.

"Stay back, Mr. Dawsen."

Addison teetered on his cane. "For God's
sake, Desmona,"

"Get your coat, Addison. We're leaving." She
glared at Claire. "Where's the journal?"

Claire straightened her shoulders, unwilling
to take one more step in fear. She refused to be pushed, prodded,
or pounded ever again.

Her father touched her elbow. "Go get the
diary, sweetheart." He was telling her to run, but she wouldn't
leave the fate of the people she loved in the hands of this crazy
old lady.

"No, Daddy." An odd calm stole over her as
she stared into Desmona's manic eyes. "You have no right to my
grandmother's personal life."

"I have a right to protect my family and my
reputation. Believe me, I'll shoot you to do so."

Desmona was dead serious.

"No one knows about the journal, Mrs.
Edwards."

"And I intend to make certain they never do."
She waved the gun toward the desk. "Get the diary."

In that brief moment of distraction, Addison
stepped forward and planted himself between Desmona's gun and
Claire's body. Claire's father shoved her toward the parlor, but
she stopped in the doorway, refusing to leave her grandfather to
defend her.

Addison spread his arms, baring his chest to
Desmona's revolver. "If you're going to shoot anyone, shoot me. I'm
the one at fault. Not Claire."

His wife's hands trembled as she gripped the
revolver tighter. "She has the journal, and I want it
destroyed."

"That won't change what happened," he
said.

"It will keep your unsavory behavior from
ever being known."

His blue eyes turned into oceans of pain and
sadness. "What difference will that make?
You'll
still
know.
You'll
still hate me like you've hated me for
forty-nine years."

"It will protect our girls and our
grandchildren. They shouldn't have to suffer gossip or shame over
your licentious behavior with another woman."

"Neither should you," he said. His thin
shoulders stooped with defeat. Surprise whisked across her face. "I
cheated you out of a good marriage, Desmona. I regret my
infidelity. But my biggest regret is that I crushed the sweetness
in you and turned you into a bitter woman."

"Bitter?" Her chin snapped up and her
nostrils flared. "I was wronged. You fell in love with another
woman and broke my heart, Addison."

"I ended the affair with Marie the day you
found us in her parlor. From that moment on, I behaved with decency
and respect toward you."

"Is that supposed to make your betrayal
acceptable?" She glared at him. "Where was your decency and respect
when you broke our marriage vows?"

He lowered his head, looking so abashed and
ashamed that Claire's heart wrenched with pity.

He cleared his throat, but his voice came out
a choked whisper. "I was lost, Desmona. I admit it. I wronged you.
I've spent forty-nine years trying to make amends, but you've put
up barriers at every turn. And now I realize I don't even know you.
The woman I married would never point a gun in hatred at a decent
human being who has never harmed her in any way."

Desmona's mouth fell open.

"Whatever happened to that beautiful, giving
woman I married?" he asked, his voice thick with regret.

The anger drained from her face, leaving only
desolation.

"I'm sorry I did this to you," Addison went
on. "I'm sorry I snuffed out the stars that used to be in your
eyes."

"Addison, you fool, it's too late for an
apology," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. Tears
shimmered in her eyes.

"Is it?" he asked. "Or is it just too
difficult for you to forgive me?"

"How can I forgive you?" Her lips trembled
and tears welled up and rolled over her lower lashes. "You loved
another woman."

"And I loved you."

"No, you didn't." She shook her head and
lowered the gun to her side, tears filling the grooves of her
wrinkled cheeks. "You never loved me."

Addison slipped the gun from her hand and
passed it to Claire's father. "Come here, Desmona." He pulled her
unyielding body against him and rubbed her hunched shoulders. "I
loved you when I married you," he whispered against her gray
hair.

An anguished sob erupted from Desmona's
throat, and she buried her face in Addison's chest.

"I'm sorry." He stroked her back. "I'm
responsible for all of this."

Desmona's gnarled fingers clutched his gray
sweater, and her shoulders shook with sobs.

Claire's throat filled with tears, but she
couldn't turn away.

"We've got a few years ahead of us," Addison
went on, his voice wobbling with emotion. "Let's spend it in
peace."

Desmona wept too hard to answer.

Addison eased her away and tipped her chin
up. Tears made her eyes red and puffy, but Addison looked at her as
if she were the young woman he'd married. "If you can forgive me,
we might still enjoy the time we have left."

A breathy sob flared her nostrils, and she
pressed her brown-spotted hand to her mouth.

"Will you let me walk you home?" he asked,
but Claire knew he was asking for more, that he was asking
Desmona's whole forgiveness.

Desmona closed her eyes and gave a small nod
of assent.

Claire exchanged a sympathetic look with her
father, then turned and went to the parlor fireplace where Sailor
was lounging. She could hear Desmona sobbing and Addison quietly
consoling her.

"You are going to be the death of me," her
father said from behind her, then he turned her toward him and
pulled her into a crushing embrace.

He was trembling.

Her strong, tall father was trembling.

She clung to him, loving the starchy smell of
his shirt and the hard pounding of his heart that affirmed his
presence in her life. How had she ever walked away from him?

"I want you to come home with me," he
said.

"I know." She hugged him. "I'll come for a
visit in the spring."

He looked down at her with displeasure. "I
meant for you to move home."

"This is my home, Daddy."

"Then for God's sake, stop marching."

"This business with the Edwardses has nothing
to do with my temperance marches. It was about grandmother's
journal"

"I don't give a damn if it's a temperance
march, a journal, or a cur like Jack Ashier that puts you in
danger. I don't want you involved in anything that will hurt
you!"

"Oh, Daddy..." She squeezed his neck then
leaned back. "I love you."

He sighed and fit her against his chest
again. "You give new meaning to the word troublesome."

She smiled and smoothed her palm over his
firm shoulder. "I'm sorry you found out about your father this
way."

"I assume Addison has known about this?"

She nodded. "He was thrilled when he found
out about you, and he has asked a million, questions about you
since."

Her father was silent for a minute, then
released a long sigh. "If you won't come home, and you won't quit
marching, maybe you should rethink Boyd Grayson's marriage
proposal"

Her heart somersaulted, and she jerked back
to stare at her father.

"He told me he asked you. He told me you
refused. But he's still willing. More than willing, if my guess is
worth anything."

She had no idea how to respond. Why did Boyd
tell her father about his proposal?

"He's a good man, Claire. I would welcome him
as my son-in-law. "

That's why.
Boyd had wanted her
father's blessing.

She pulled from her father's arms and knelt
beside Sailor, who was nudging her legs to get her attention. "I
don't want to marry again," she said, stroking the soft fur on
Sailor's neck.

"Why not? Mr. Grayson thinks you care for
him, and it's obvious he cares for you."

"He wants to own me, Daddy."

"Bosh. You insult my intelligence,
Claire."

"Then why did he go to Buffalo to get you?
I'll tell you why," she said, her heart aching. "He wants you to
convince me to stop marching. He's trying to keep me from shutting
down his saloon. He was serving his own interests when he asked me
to marry him. And he was serving his interest when he went to visit
you in Buffalo."

She heard the front door close, and knew
Addison and Desmona were taking their first steps back home, and
hopefully steps toward healing a rift they'd endured for
decades.

"A man like Boyd Grayson doesn't ask a woman
to marry him because he wants to control her decisions," her father
insisted. "That boy loves you. He brought me here because he knew
we loved and needed each other, and because he is sincerely worried
about your safety."

Claire sighed and bent to add a log to the
fire. "I like not having to answer to anyone. I like being in
charge of my life."

"Is it more important to you than sharing
your life with a man you love?"

"Yes." She dusted her hands on her skirt and
stood. "Yes, Daddy, it is." It had to be.

He shook his head. "You're as confused about
love as you are about your temperance marches that aren't doing a
damn bit of good. It's all nonsense, Claire. He shook his head in
disgust. "If your independence is that important to you, then I'll
transfer your dowry money into an account for you. Believe me, you
can live comfortably without taking boarders."

"Oh, Daddy, I don't want your money."

"As long as you insist on living an
independent life, I insist on giving you the means to do so. His
jaw clenched. "If Jack Ashier were still alive, I'd kill the
bastard."

The fury in his voice shocked her.

"He ruined you. For that offense, I would
gladly kill him." Red-faced, her father stormed out of the
house.

Claire rushed to the foyer window and saw him
cross the street, no doubt to nurse his anger with a manly glass of
good whiskey at Boyd's still operating saloon.

She stood by the window, listening to the
revelry next door, wishing she had a place to go and a friend to
talk to. Was her father right about the temperance marches being a
waste of time? She rubbed her temples to ease the ache behind her
eyes. Maybe they weren't helping anyone. Elizabeth's situation
hadn't changed at all. Anna's life wouldn't change as long as she
was married to Larry. And truthfully, Claire's own marriage to Jack
would have been hell even if the saloons had been closed down. Jack
would have made his own liquor, and had at times. So what was the
point? What was she trying to accomplish by marching? She wanted to
protect women like herself and Anna and Elizabeth, but all she was
doing was antagonizing every man in town.

And questioning an honorable man's
integrity.

She leaned her forehead against the frigid
window pane, suspecting that her father was right about the
temperance marches, and about Boyd's intentions. She was sorry
she'd judged Boyd unfairly.

But most of all, she was sorry that her
father was right about her, that Jack had ruined her ability to
trust.

Boyd
lowered his ax and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. He blew
his nose and cursed the wind that cut a chill path through the yard
at the depot.

"You sick?" Kyle asked, stopping his team of
Percherons in the middle of the yard where Boyd was whacking the
bark off a maple log. Frosty clouds of air blew from the horses'
nostrils and spun away on the wind.

Boyd wasn't sick. He was all twisted up
inside, true, but it was nothing a doctor could cure. He stuffed
the handkerchief back in his pocket and picked up his ax. "Remember
that talk we had out here right after you married Amelia?"

"How could I forget?" his brother said. "It
was one of your shining moments."

"Well, it's your turn to give me some advice.
How do you change a lady's mind about something?"

"You think I know?" Kyle tipped his head back
and laughed. Several of the lumberyard crew members paused in their
labor to look. "Boyd, if there's a way to do that, I'd sure as hell
like to know."

"How do you get Amelia to change her mind
when she's set on something?"

"I don't."

"The hell you don't. She supports everything
you want to do with the mills."

"That doesn't mean she always agrees with my
decisions," Kyle said. "We each speak our mind, then find a
compromise. Easy in theory. Difficult in practice. "

"What if you had to change her mind?"

"I'd get on my knees and beg."

"I'm serious, Kyle." He felt foolish asking
for advice, but he was desperate enough to suffer his brother's
ribbing. "I need to change Claire's mind about pursuing this
temperance issue before she gets herself killed. One of the ladies
found a rattlesnake in her kitchen yesterday."

"At this time of year? I find that hard to
believe."

Boyd shrugged. "That's what I heard. And I
don't want something like that to happen to Claire."

"Well, well, well. I believe Duke was right,"
Kyle said, looking surprised. He gave a grin that made Boyd want to
smack him. "The lovely widow has gotten her claws into you. It's
going to be a hell of a good time watching you try to shake loose."
He grabbed Boyd by the shoulders with mock talons.

"Get away from me." Boyd jabbed Kyle in the
stomach with the handle of his ax.

Kyle grew serious. "You're the expert at
seducing women. Use that to change Claire's mind."

He'd tried, but Claire had turned the tables
on him. She wanted him in her bed and nothing else. He asked her to
marry him. He brought her father to Fredonia to see her. Her father
had given her such a large sum of money, the town was still
gossiping about her good fortune. Not one proposal had swayed her
in the least.