My Darling Melissa (10 page)

“I know.” Quinn counted out three twenties and a five and handed them to Mitch. “Stop worrying,” he said. “I’m still solvent.”

Mitch tucked the currency into his wallet without counting it. “I hope you’re not just saying that to preserve your pride or something. I’m your friend, and if you’re in trouble, I want to help you.”

“I’m in a lot of trouble,” Quinn admitted wryly, “but it doesn’t have much to do with money. Want a drink?”

Mitch nodded and went to the liquor cabinet to help himself. “How about you?” he asked, holding up a bottle.

Quinn shook his head. “I’ve had more hooch since I met that woman than in all the rest of my life combined. She’s driving me crazy.”

Mitch grinned as he poured himself a shot of Scotch and returned to his chair. “Here’s to true love,” he said, lifting his glass as he sat down.

Quinn gave him a look, then cupped his hands behind his head and kicked his feet up onto the desk. “She’s got a job shucking oysters,” he said.

A sigh escaped Mitch. “I’m afraid that’s partly my fault,” he said. “She asked me where she could find work, and I pointed her in the direction of the cannery, thinking she’d find out how hard it was and come home.”

Quinn closed his eyes. “You should see her hands,” he despaired. “They’re all swollen and cut. And she’s so tired she can’t see straight.”

“But she’s going back tomorrow,” Mitch guessed.

“That’s right.”

“They’re bound to give her the sack,” Mitch said. “No way she could keep up.”

Quinn opened his eyes again. He was exhausted himself—God, what he wouldn’t give to make love to Melissa and then sleep for a solid week. “I know,” he agreed. “I’m worried about what that’s going to do to her, even though I’d
be happy as hell if they showed her the road. Do you think I should pay them to keep her on or something?”

“No,” Mitch answered immediately. “I figure if you interfere in this, one way or the other you’re going to be sorry.”

Quinn knew that his friend was right, but he hated sitting back and watching Melissa take a blow like that. It was easy enough to see that things had gone her way all her life.

After a few more minutes of quiet, companionable conversation Mitch set aside his glass and left.

Quinn was drawn to Melissa, but he forced himself to stay in his study until the numbers in his ledgers began to blur in front of his eyes. When Mrs. Wright came in to collect his supper tray he couldn’t refrain from asking, “Has my wife eaten?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” Mrs. Wright answered without hesitation. “She’s had her supper and her bath and fallen sound asleep. I haven’t seen a body so tired since that flume collapsed last fall and you spent a week up on the mountain seeing to it.”

Quinn allowed himself a half smile. Overseeing the repair of a flume was simple stuff compared to dealing with Melissa. “She’s got a job,” he confessed.

Mrs. Wright looked embarrassed. “Yes, sir,” she said in a hushed voice. “I know.” It was clear that the old woman found Melissa a consuming mystery, and she wasn’t alone.

“I want everything done for her comfort,” Quinn said, sliding back his chair and stretching. “Make sure, if you will, that she has a good breakfast and something to eat at midday.”

The housekeeper nodded and went out.

Quinn looked up at the ceiling. More than anything he wanted to go to Melissa, take her into his arms, and teach her all the sweet pleasures he knew she’d enjoy. There was no way that he could do that, however, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep even though he was worn out. With both these avenues cut off, Quinn was at a loss as to how to spend the rest of the evening.

Gillian came into his mind, but his blood didn’t heat the way it used to, nor did his heart rate pick up speed. It
amazed him that things could change so quickly, but his whole world had turned around the moment he’d hauled Melissa aboard the train. He’d desired her in the most desperate way ever since.

With a sigh Quinn took the spare key to his bedroom from the corner of a desk drawer and flipped it into the air, catching it in his palm. One day—one day soon—he was going to have to win Melissa’s trust.

He glanced up at the ceiling again and swallowed hard. He had a feeling that he was going to have to crawl through that doorway when the time came, rather than walk.

Presently Quinn dropped the key back into its drawer. He’d go out for a while, and when he came back he’d let himself into the bedroom and collapse on the sofa, just as he had the night before.

Six

Jeff had hoped that Fancy would be asleep by the time he got home; instead, she was sitting up by the parlor fire, talking with Adam’s wife, Banner.

The conversation ceased the instant the women noticed he was there. Jeff felt hurt by that, but he didn’t have to ask what they’d been talking about; he knew only too well.

Fancy’s soft violet gaze touched his face briefly and then skittered away. “Banner tells me you’ve found Melissa,” she said.

Jeff shoved a hand through his hair, distracted. A twisting sweetness moved painfully within him as he looked at Fancy; though much was wrong between them, he loved her as desperately as he ever had. “Yes,” he finally replied. “She’s—er—discovering life or something.”

Banner was preparing to go; she set aside her teacup, got out of her chair, and reached for her cloak. She was looking at Jeff. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that the three of you have decided to stay out of this and let Melissa live her own life.”

Jeff sighed, searching his soul for that quality that seemed
to elude him more with each passing year: patience. “She needs looking after,” he said flatly.

Banner and Fancy exchanged one of those looks of theirs, and Jeff felt his temper heating up.

“Melissa’s a grown woman,” Banner protested, tying the ribbons of her fancy green bonnet beneath her chin. “She can take care of herself.”

“Yes,” Fancy agreed, glaring at Jeff as though it were his fault that Melissa didn’t have the sense God gave a brass spittoon.

Jeff glanced at the cradle beside Fancy’s chair where the new baby lay sleeping and struggled to keep his voice low. Caroline was his only daughter, and she occupied a special place in his heart. “It’s been four days since Melissa ran out of the church,” he reminded the two women evenly. “Since then she’s married a total stranger, and God only knows what
else
she’s done. Don’t tell me that my sister can take care of herself.”

“There’s no sense in trying to tell you anything,” Fancy said.

Banner hastened toward the door. “Don’t bother offering to see me home, Jeff,” she told him with sarcastic sweetness. “I brought the buggy.”

As much to spite his sister-in-law as to ensure her safety, Jeff escorted Banner down the front walk and helped her into the waiting rig. Though the lights of gas-powered street lamps glowed all around them, the shadows beneath the bonnet of the buggy rendered Banner all but invisible.

She surprised Jeff by reaching out to take his hand for a moment. Her voice when she spoke was soft and earnest. “You do love Fancy, don’t you, Jeff?” she asked.

He was affronted. “You know I do,” he replied hoarsely.

“Then let Katherine and the others handle this problem with Melissa. You’ve got enough trouble right here.”

Banner had spoken with such cryptic import that Jeff was both alarmed and annoyed, but he had no chance to question her. She was gone in an instant, disappearing with the familiar horse and buggy into the foggy mist.

Jeff went slowly back into the house, still puzzling over
Banner’s remark. Sure, he and Fancy had problems—every married couple did—but it wasn’t as bad as his sister-in-law had made it sound.

Was it?

He went back into the parlor and stood before the fire with his back to Fancy, thinking.

“I’ve ordered a set of twin beds,” Fancy announced with prim suddenness, and Jeff whirled to face her.

“What?” he demanded in a gruff whisper.

Fancy idly rocked Caroline’s cradle, all the while avoiding Jeff’s eyes. “I don’t think we should sleep together for a while,” she said.

Jeff’s frustration and fury knew no bounds. “You can’t be serious,” he burst out. “Good God, woman, you’re my wife!”

The baby started in fright and then began to shriek.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Fancy cried, sweeping the baby up into her arms and starting toward the stairs.

Jeff hesitated for a few moments, too stunned to move, then hurried after her. She was striding along the hallway toward their bedroom when he caught up with her. Caroline was still screaming; at this rate, the boys would soon be awake, too.

The place would be bedlam.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

Fancy gave him a look that said he should be sorry and crossed their room to enter the adjoining nursery and pace the floor with Caroline.

Jeff ached at the lack of understanding between himself and his wife, but he didn’t know how to cross the breach. He wasn’t even sure exactly what was wrong, but it had all started when Fancy had begun to share Banner’s consuming interest in the suffrage movement.

He sat down on the edge of the bed he and Fancy had shared so happily and buried his head in his hands. The baby was settling down by fits and starts, and after several minutes had passed Fancy returned from the nursery, her arms empty.

“What’s happening to us?” Jeff asked miserably, and she
looked away for a moment, gnawing at her lower lip, her dark violet eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t know,” she answered after a long time.

Jeff rose and crossed the room to lay his hands gently on Fancy’s shoulders. He kissed her forehead and then said sadly, “We’d damned well better find out, hadn’t we?”

“Will you be going to Port Riley tomorrow about Melissa?” Fancy looked up at him with a plea in her eyes.

Jeff was at a loss as to whether she wanted him to stay or go; in the end, he had to risk being wrong.

“No. Somebody told me tonight that I have troubles enough of my own, and I think they were right.”

Fancy rested her cheek against his chest. Her back moved in a small, quivering sigh beneath his hands, and Jeff never knew if his choice had been correct or not.

Keith was standing by the fireplace in the study when Tess joined him there. Her wild mane of brown hair fell freely about the shoulders of her wrapper.

“You’re very late,” she said, putting her arms around him from behind and rising on tiptoe to kiss the nape of his neck. “And I’m absolutely furious.”

He turned in her embrace, resting his hands on her hips and favoring her with an insolent half grin. “Is that so?” he intoned, kissing the tip of her nose. He gave her a little squeeze. “Can’t think why you’d be the least bit put out. After all, a woman’s place is in the home, and here you are, right at home.”

Hazel eyes dancing, Tess gave her husband a poke in the stomach. “You,” she accused, “have been talking to Jeff again.”

Keith sighed and shook his head. Suddenly his expression was serious. “What’s going on between him and Fancy, do you know?”

Tess held Keith a little tighter for a moment and then stepped back. “Fancy feels that she and Jeff have enough children now, and she wants to take a more active part in community affairs—”

“The suffrage movement,” Keith put in.

Tess looked at her husband warily. He was in favor of granting women the vote, but he was also a Corbin, strong-willed, with a tendency to dominate at times. His preferences, where a wife’s behavior was concerned, weren’t always in alignment with his political ideals.

She nodded. “Jeff’s solution is to keep Fancy pregnant, and therefore out of trouble.”

Keith chuckled and shook his head. “That would be his logic.” He shrugged. “Change seldom comes quickly, Tess. And that approach has served men well for a long, long time.”

Tess felt a self-conscious blush climb her cheeks. She and Keith had only two children, whereas Jeff and Fancy had four, and so did Adam and Banner. She wondered if her husband felt cheated.

Keith curved a finger beneath Tess’s chin and lifted. “What?” he asked softly. Insistently.

There was nothing to do but confess, and Tess knew it. “I was thinking that maybe you wish you’d married a different wife—one who could give you a houseful of children.”

His eyes were so gentle that Tess feared to lose herself in their soft azure depths. “Ethan and Mary Katherine
are
a houseful of children,” he told her with a grin. Before he could kiss her, however, or even say that he loved her, there was a frantic hammering at the front door.

Tess steeled herself, knowing that this would be one of those nights. Someone in Keith’s parish needed him; in a few minutes he would be gone.

The caller was a man who worked in the shipyard; his young wife had delivered a stillborn child only an hour before. Now, in her grief, she wanted the comfort only her pastor could give her.

Tess hurried to fetch Keith’s battered old Bible while he shrugged into his coat. “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he promised, giving her a brief kiss.

And then the door was closing behind him.

Melissa had expected her second day of work to be better than the first; instead, it was worse. While the gloves she’d
bought at the mercantile protected her hands, they also slowed down her efforts. Throughout the morning, whenever Mr. Rimley passed, he counted the oysters in her bucket with his lips moving and then glared at Melissa and shook his head.