Redemption (17 page)

When she would have resumed her caress, his grip tightened on her wrist. “You’re hurting me,” she said quietly. “I’ll wear bruises tomorrow.” But she refused to give way, would not allow him to force her retreat. Rising to her knees, she shed the covering that hid her from him, the sheet falling aside. She bent low, her breasts brushing his belly and the place where his manhood was not yet fully aroused.

Her mouth was open against him, pressing kisses against his leg, her tongue touching the scars, her lips leaving behind the caress of a willing woman, a wife who knew her husband’s flaws and was willing to accept them as a part of the man he had become. Jake released her wrist, and with a groan that seemed wrenched from deep within him, his fingers moved to touch her hair, weaving into the coronet of braids she wore, pressing her closer to her goal.

She held his scarred thigh between her hands, caressed it gently, and blessed it with a multitude of
kisses, then lifted his other knee and sought the short length of leg it possessed.

“Alicia.” His voice was raw with pain, with a sorrow she could only imagine, for nothing in her life had prepared her for the reality of Jake’s wounding. “You don’t have to do this.”

She looked up at him. “Ah, but I do,” she whispered. “I have to make you understand that it isn’t the absence or presence of your lower limbs that makes you the man I love. This is but a part of you, an essential part, but not the most important part.” Beneath her breast, his manhood was coming to life, nudging her skin, making itself known to her. She smiled, shooting him a warm, inviting glance.

Suddenly he reached for her, grasping her shoulders and drawing her upward.

She shook her head. “Wait, Jake. I need to tell you why I love you.”

“You love me?” He looked disbelievingly at her. “I’ve given you little enough reason to even
like
me.”

“Well, it’s true,” she said firmly. “I knew months ago that I was in love with you. Although how I knew is beyond me. I’ve never felt this way about a man before and, as you pointed out, you haven’t given me much reason to feel like this. But at this point, I suspect it isn’t something I can control.”

“I’m mean and harsh and arrogant, Alicia,” he said
crossly. “You told me that yourself. Surely if you were going to fall in love, it wouldn’t be with a man with no redeeming qualities.”

“Oh, you have a few.” She faced him then, lying halfway across his body. “You’re smart and quick-witted. I like your humor, and the way you respond to me. You don’t get angry…well, not very, anyway, when I speak up to you. And for the most part you’ve been fair with me.”

She reached out and traced his jawline with her index finger. “Even with these whiskers, you’re a handsome man, Jake McPherson. I don’t know why you ever decided I was a good candidate for marriage, but I’m happy that you made that move in my direction.”

“You’re a good wife, Alicia,” he told her. “Even if you’d never allowed me to coax you to my bed, you’d still be a wife to me. You’ve taken care of me and put up with my moods and been good to my son. This—” he touched her hip, his hand widespread against the firm flesh “—this is just a gift.” His other hand cupped one breast, the abundant roundness filling his palm.

“I feel so lucky to have you. To know that you aren’t—” As though he searched for a word, he paused, then pulled her closer. “Kiss me, Alicia. Please give me your warmth tonight. I need you badly.”

She met his lips with hers, still tentative, even after
the long hours spent in his arms. “I’m not very good at this,” she murmured, raising her head to look down at him.

“If you were any better at it, I’d be in deep trouble,” he whispered. “As it is, I’m not sure how long I can hold out, sweetheart.” He touched her temple, ran his index finger through a lock of her hair that had come free of the braid she wore. “Will you take down your hair for me?” he asked. “I wanted to see it last night, but we got too involved too quickly, and besides it was dark. I’d like to watch it ripple around your shoulders.”

“It’s a mess when it’s undone,” she warned him. “I’ve thought of cutting it off. It takes forever to dry when I wash it, and keeping the snarls brushed out is a daily task.”

“No, I don’t want you to cut it,” he told her fiercely. “It’s lovely. Leave it long.” Then he sought the pins that held it in a coronet. One at a time, he removed them, holding them in one palm as the fingers of his other hand tugged them from place, until the long braid swung free against his chest.

She felt ill at ease, for her mother had often said that a woman’s hair must be kept tidy at all times. That it was vanity that made women allow it to lie loose against their shoulders, that men did not admire a woman who was slatternly in appearance. But Jake had bid her loosen the braid, allowing the crinkled mass to flow freely.

She did as he asked, undoing and running her fingers through the free strands of hair, watching as he reached to grasp a handful and clutch it between his fingers and palm. It was indeed long, hanging well beyond her waist, and before she was finished he had pulled it to either side, displaying it like a living shawl over her shoulders and breasts.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “It looks just as I thought it would.”

“When did you ever think about my hair?” she asked, a dubious frown appearing.

“Frequently.” Absorbed in his task, he placed the long locks where he would and then smiled, as though pleased with his work. “I’ll brush it for you in the morning,” he offered.

“I may just take you up on that,” she said. “By the time I sleep on it, it’ll be a mess.”

“Come here to me,” he told her. “Lie beside me, Alicia. I need to love you tonight.”

“Beside you?” she asked, frowning. How this thing could be accomplished in such a way was more than her mind could fathom, but it seemed Jake had no such problem, for he took but moments to adjust their bodies, lifting her leg across his hip, so that he could reach her with ease, his hands once more making magic against her flesh.

“See?” He breathed the single word and she could
only nod in response, unable to voice her delight at the sensations he elicited from the places he chose to visit. He bent to her breasts and suckled there, holding her against himself with hands capturing her legs and the width of her hips.

She obeyed his every command, gave him that which he asked from her, and rose with him to the heights as he bid her follow his lead. He moved within her, filling her with the very essence of his manhood. The thrill of his possession brought tears to her eyes and joy to her heart, and she gladly gave in return the love she had stored within her heart for just such a moment.

He was not gentle, but she had not expected his taking of her to be as it had been the night before, when she was totally untried. Tonight, he demanded more of her, fitting her to himself and turning loose his passion on her willing flesh. Again, she knew long moments of fulfillment, once more realized the joy of accepting his seed into her body, and clasped him in spasms of pleasure beyond any she had imagined.

“Alicia.” He spoke her name in a voice that murmured of passion spent, of desire satisfied by the woman of his choice. “Alicia.” He repeated the syllables slowly, enunciating them as if tasting each one, whispering her name in a rhythm that spoke of delight and brought her joy.

He might not love her, for he’d not said those words
aloud. But he needed her, he wanted her beside him and he had been pleased with her. For tonight that would be enough.

“T
HE BOY MAY ONLY BE
nine years old, but he committed a crime.” The sheriff was adamant, and Alicia found it difficult to disagree with him. Jason had gone far beyond a simple prank this time.

Wrecking a flower bed was one thing. Releasing three prisoners quite another.

Visiting Jason in jail was an experience she’d just as soon not repeat, she decided. Since Jake could not make the trip, it was left to her to speak with the sheriff and see Jason in his cell. After being patently ignored by the boy and noting his blatant stubbornness, she found herself agreeing with the lawman.

“Is it legal to keep him here?” she asked. “His father is talking about having him at home and keeping track of his whereabouts until the judge decides what should be done.”

“I reckon I can do pretty much whatever needs to be done with the boy,” the sheriff said firmly. “He needs to learn a lesson, and turning him loose ain’t
gonna do the trick. He’s safe and sound where he is, Mrs. McPherson. Nobody’s gonna hurt him, and there ain’t even any other prisoners back there to have a bad influence on him—thanks to his turning them loose.”

It seemed her trip to the jailhouse had been for naught, Alicia thought glumly. Going home and facing Jake with her failure was not palatable, but she’d done all she could to solve the problem, with no success.

“I brought Jason some clean clothes,” she said, offering the bundle of personal items into the lawman’s hands. “Is he able to bathe in his cell? And Jake wondered what he’s eating.”

“All taken care of, ma’am. My wife does the cooking for the prisoners, and she’s a good cook. Makes plain, everyday meals. Nothin’ fancy, you understand, but I manage to get along on it. I reckon Jason will, too.” He grinned then, as if a thought had amused him.

“Far as keeping clean is concerned, I can only provide soap and water and a bucket. It’s up to him what he does with it. If I remember right, my own boys weren’t any too fond of washin’ up at that age. No guarantees there, ma’am.”

Alicia’s heart ached for the boy, and yet no one could solve his problems for him. Somehow he had to come to grips with the changes in his life, and how that would come to pass was a mystery to her. Jake had been abrupt with him. She had probably been too lenient
at times. And Jason was a stubborn boy, not unlike his father. A boy who was still in mourning for the mother who had left him…not willingly, but permanently, nevertheless.

She walked from the jailhouse. Rescuing Jason was not going to be a simple matter. And she wasn’t at all certain that rescue was what he needed. Maybe this was, indeed, a wake-up call, a rough spot in his life that would eventually set him in the right direction.

The general store was almost empty, and for that she was thankful. Facing a whole raft of women, all of them set on quizzing her or commiserating with her problem, was not appealing this morning. She placed her order with Mr. Harris, then left him alone to fill it for her while she wandered through the store. Fresh eggs on the counter reminded her that her own supply was low, and she turned back to add them to her list.

Only to run almost headlong into Toby’s mother. The woman looked mighty uncomfortable, but spoke nicely. “I’d like you to pass along a message to your husband, Mrs. McPherson,” she said timidly. “Toby is like a different boy since he’s been taking lessons from Mr. McPherson. You know we don’t have a piano of our own, but the minister over at the church lets him practice there pretty near every day.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping in volume as
if she feared being overheard. “The church pianist, Mrs. Howard, doesn’t approve of the music Toby is learning, but she hasn’t been able to discourage him from it, and the minister is agreeable to the boy playing whatever your husband gives him to work on.”

She fussed with her reticule and then met Alicia’s gaze with eyes that filled with tears. “I’m so sorry about Mr. McPherson’s boy, getting in trouble and all. He’s had a bad time of it, losing his mother and his pa being a recluse and all. It’s a wonder to me that the boy hasn’t been in more trouble than—well, anyway, I just want you to know I’m sorry.”

Alicia was moved by the offer of sympathy. She reached to touch the woman’s arm and smiled, hoping she could convey her appreciation without going into a great deal of explanation. “Jason is in trouble, all right. But his father and I are hoping he’ll learn from this experience.”

“Well, I just know that I’m thankful for what Mr. McPherson has done for my Toby,” the other woman repeated. “He can hardly wait every week for the day of his lesson.” She leaned closer. “I sometimes wonder how I managed to birth such a child.”

“I’m sure you’re a very good mother,” Alicia told her. “There are miracles every day of our lives, you know. Perhaps having Toby sent into your home was one of them.”

Mr. Harris raised his hand, signifying that her order was ready, and Alicia took her leave of the woman, pleased that she would have one bit of cheer to offer Jake when she arrived home. Although the notion that he could reach another child, yet not have the impact needed on his own son, might not be the best news she could carry to him.

“Thank you, Mr. Harris,” she said, checking the contents of her basket quickly; reassured that her list was well represented, she was ready to leave. “Please put this on our bill,” she said, to which the gentleman smiled and nodded.

The basket Alicia carried was heavy and she lifted it with an effort. From behind her a familiar voice spoke her name, and she turned with a smile to greet Cord.

“Good morning,” she said, and then lowered her voice. “Have you stopped by the jail?” she asked. “Did you talk to the sheriff?”

“Yes, on both counts,” he answered, shaking his head. “Jason is pulling his stubborn act, refused to talk to me, in fact.”

“I couldn’t get him to look away from the wall, either,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’ll tell Jake. He’s going to want to know every detail of this jaunt to see the sheriff.”

“I’m going by your place right now,” Cord told her. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift.” Without asking, he
took the basket from her and she followed him to the door, then on out to where his farm wagon was tied to a hitching rail at the end of a long line of shops. He gave her a hand and she climbed to the seat, where she settled herself, thankful that he’d come along to tend her heavy basket.

If the buggy Jake had given her were to be kept at the house, she might have used it this morning. As it was, the shed-building kept getting postponed for one reason or other.

Cord passed along word from Rachel, mentioning the last of the garden that was keeping her busy in the kitchen. Melody was learning the fine art of putting a meal on the table these days, what with Rachel involved in canning the produce. Cord mentioned the fact in passing and then sighed. “She’s not yet the cook her mother is, but Rachel says I have to be properly appreciative of her efforts.”

In no time, they arrived at the house. Jake was in the kitchen when Cord carried in the basket. Alicia busied herself putting away the assortment of canned fruit and the staples she’d needed, listening with one ear to the two men as they spoke of Jason.

“It’s got me hangin’,” Cord said with a dour expression on his face. “I felt like snatching him up from that bunk and shaking the stuffing out of him.” Then he relented, smiling a bit. “Well, maybe not quite, but dog-gone
it, Jake, he doesn’t seem to be showing any remorse at all for what he did.”

“I need to see him,” Jake said. He looked down to where his trousers hung, empty. His face tightened. “Damn.” It was a curse that Alicia could not have denied him, conveying his feelings of helplessness at this moment. His son was in jail, less than a half mile away, but it might as well be ten miles, for all the chance Jake had of dealing with the boy.

“Maybe we can figure something out,” Cord said. “I’ll bet between Alicia and me, we could get you out the back door. There’s only two steps there, Jake, and I could pull the wagon around from the front of the house. There’s room for it at the end of the picket fence. I’d figure out how we could hoist you up to the wagonbed, and maybe the sheriff would let Jason come out and see you.”

“And maybe pigs will fly,” Jake said bitterly. “I’m not going to be carted around town like a freak at a sideshow, Cord. You know better.”

“You used to go to your office when you worked for the opera company,” Cord reminded him quietly. “We had a ramp for you and—”

Jake’s raised hand effectively cut off his brother’s reminder of better days. “And I had the damn ramp torn down the day after Rena’s funeral, if you remember. We’re not going that route again. Those days are over, and you might as well get used to it.”

Alicia closed her eyes, standing in the pantry, listening to the brothers, and feeling Jake’s pain as he spoke the brutal truth as he saw it. She might never make things any better in this house than they were at this moment, she thought, bowing her head, taking note of the hot tears that fell against her hands. Jake had been so badly hurt by Rena’s death he might never fully recover.

Her own helplessness tore at her heart. She could only do so much, and she’d been fooling herself when she’d dreamed of Jake going to church with her and even socializing on occasion.

Even the Fourth of July picnic had come and gone without a mention, except for Jason running off early in the morning and not returning until after dark. “You know where he is,” she’d told Jake midway through the day. “I can’t blame him for wanting to attend, and if you’d be honest with yourself, you can’t, either.”

“He didn’t even ask permission,” Jake had said harshly. “Just ran off.”

“Every other boy in town went to the picnic,” Alicia reminded him. “He’s been looking forward to seeing the fireworks and playing in the games. The only thing that would have pleased him more would be to have you along.”

Morosely, Jake had retreated for the day, and Alicia had not attempted to coax him into a better mood.

Now she wiped her eyes and made ready to leave the pantry. Jake was in the midst of telling Cord why it was impossible for him to leave the house, and Cord was arguing the point with flashing eyes and a grim frown creasing his forehead.

“Never mind, Cord,” she said quietly. “He won’t go, and you’ll just get upset for nothing.”

“Stay out of this,” Jake said sharply. “I can speak for myself, Alicia.”

She shrugged and turned to leave the kitchen. “I’m well aware of that.” As a final remark, it left a lot to be desired, but right now it was the best she could do without displaying her discouragement by shedding tears in front of the two men…and
that
she refused to do.

“Alicia!” Jake called her name, but she kept walking, past his bedroom and to the staircase. She heard the wheels of his chair on the floor as she climbed the stairs, refused to look back at him, and closed the door of her old room with barely a sound. She ached to slam it, but was determined he would not have the satisfaction of knowing he’d frustrated her to that point. Her bed was made and she broke her own long-standing rule to lie down atop the quilt.

She’d been taught as a child that a lady must not succumb to laziness, and naps were for children. Today she didn’t give a hang what her mother might think of
her actions, and hugged her pillow to herself as she curled up in the middle of the big bed.

T
HE SHERIFF ARRIVED JUST
after suppertime and, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air, walked through the hallway to the kitchen, where Jake was still sitting at the table. Jake watched Alicia cleaning up the dishes, and thought of what he might say to break the silence. She didn’t seem angry, so much as discouraged. She’d retreated from him today, and it wasn’t like Alicia to do so. She barely had a smile for the sheriff, in fact.

Having the lawman come to call was the icing on the cake, he decided, and he turned his chair to face the intruder. The fact that the man was well within his rights in keeping Jason in custody was immaterial, so far as Jake was concerned. The boy belonged at home, with his family. Jake was ready to handle the whole mess, and had spent the better part of the day forming a plan.

“Come on in to the parlor,” he told his visitor, then looked long and hard at Alicia. “Will you bring us some coffee?” he asked.

She only nodded, and he watched as the sheriff raised an eyebrow and grinned. He followed Jake down the hallway and murmured his opinion aloud. “Looks like your wife is pretty upset with you.”

Jake turned in the middle of the parlor to face the sheriff. “Hell, I was pretty ornery to her.”

“She’s a good woman,” the sheriff said bluntly. “I’d say you’re a lucky fella to have her.”

“I’d say you’re absolutely right,” Jake admitted readily.

He heard Alicia’s footsteps outside the parlor door and watched as she carried a small tray with two cups of coffee on it. “Here you go, Sheriff,” she said nicely, handing him a cup. “I hope you like it black. If you need sugar or cream I’ll fetch some.”

“No, I decided a long time ago not to ruin perfectly good coffee by addin’ stuff to it,” he told her.

Jake watched in silence as Alicia brought him his cup. He reached for it and murmured thanks, hoping she wouldn’t dump it in his lap. She took a seat on the couch. “May I join in this discussion?” she asked. “Or would you rather I not be included, Jake?” She looked at him with a glint in her eyes that dared him to relegate her to the kitchen, and he was quick to shake his head.

“No, you have a perfect right to be here,” he told her.

The sheriff leaned forward, speaking directly to Jake. “I’ll tell you right off, McPherson. I won’t let your boy loose till I’m satisfied that he’s paid for what he did. I haven’t figured out yet just what we’ll do to set him straight, but he’s the one who involved the law in this.”

“I understand,” Jake said. “But the bottom line is that Jason is only nine, and he’s sitting in a jailhouse
built to house criminals. I fear he’ll only be more resentful than ever by the time he’s turned free.”

“Well,” the sheriff began, “I fear that he won’t appreciate the problems he caused by turnin’ loose those fellas, unless he’s punished for it.”