Redemption (5 page)

With a flourish of white tablecloth and the clatter of forks and plates, she packed up and headed for the parlor door.

Jake watched her leave, his eyes pinned to the straight line of her spine, noting the brown braids that circled her head, crossing over almost double. Her hair must be very long, he thought. Probably past her waist. Dark and thick, it was probably her best feature. Unless he counted the clear gaze she afforded him from blue eyes that did not waver or retreat from his own. Strangely enough, she seemed to fit the body she’d
been given. In fact, she could almost be considered attractive, in a regal sort of way.

All that aside, she was definitely a woman to be reckoned with.

J
ASON LOOKED ABOUT
as uncomfortable as a boy could get, Alicia thought. She sat in a straight chair next to the door of the barbershop and tried unsuccessfully to pin a pleasant smile on her face. Jason slunk down in the black leather chair a bit farther, to no avail. Joe Hamlet, the barber, merely tucked his hands beneath the boy’s armpits and boosted him higher.

It was an ordeal for both of them, Alicia decided. Jason, because he was the center of attention; herself, because the men who lined the wall on a row of chairs were offering her long looks of appraisal. She was unaccustomed to being the focus of male attention and found it disturbing. Not that the gentlemen who awaited their turn in the barber’s chair were rude, only curious. Somehow that fact did not ease her discomfort.

The barber, mindful of the boy’s wiggling, placed a firm hand atop the lad’s head to hold him still. If it turned out to be a halfway decent haircut, Alicia would be most surprised.

“I think an ice cream is in order,” she said to a very relieved young man as they exited the shop ten minutes later.

“I’m not goin’ back there again,” Jason said vehemently, totally ignoring her offer.

“I suspect I can do as well as Mr. Hamlet, myself,” Alicia said. “Shall I give it a try when it’s grown out enough to tackle?” She steered him into the doorway of the drugstore and approached the counter. “What flavor do you want, Jason?”

“Flavor?” He looked around, as if only just now aware of his surroundings. “Ice cream flavor?”

“How about chocolate?” she asked, and lifted a hand to Frank Gavey, the owner of the store.

They ate their ice cream slowly, savoring each lick, every bite of the sugared cone and finally the pointed end where the last drops had melted. The general store was behind them, their bottoms firmly parked on a bench just outside the establishment, and Alicia prepared herself for the next leg of this outing.

“Are you ready to pick out some clothing?” she asked Jason. She rose, leading the way to the double doors that opened into the store. Jason followed slowly, dragging his feet, as if the experience at the barbershop had made him leery.

Alicia waited inside the door for him, then placed her hand on his shoulder as they approached the long
counter. A short, squat gentleman approached. Mr. Harris was a businessman. Perhaps he spotted Alicia’s determined look, or else he saw a likely prospect for a complete wardrobe when he looked at Jason. Either way, he made it his business to be cordial.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” Mr. Harris greeted them jovially. “How about some new shirts for the lad? Looks to me he’s been growing like a bad weed.”

“We’d like some trousers and then Jason will choose some other things,” she said crisply. “Is there somewhere he can try them on?”

“Naw. Just take them home, and if they don’t fit he can bring ’em back.”

“All right.” One way or another, she’d see to it that the boy was outfitted with a new wardrobe today.

“May we see what you have in his size?” she asked.

The counter soon was literally covered with clothing. Trousers, shirts, drawers and stockings were stacked in separate piles, and Jason obligingly held them up before himself, testing them for size. As the pile grew, his eyes kept pace, growing wider with each item chosen.

Alicia nodded her approval. “Now, how about some new shoes?” she asked.

“Mine are good enough,” the boy said quickly.

“That’s a lot of stuff for Pa to pay for, Miss Merriweather,” he said beneath his breath, for Alicia’s ears alone.

“He’ll want you to be outfitted properly,” she said firmly. “We’ll look at shoes next,” she told the storekeeper.

The man beamed. It was likely the best sale he’d had all week, Alicia thought. Well he might smile. Jacob McPherson’s credit was as good as gold. The shoes were selected and tried on, then the items they’d decided on were wrapped in brown paper in two separate bundles and tied with string.

“There you go, ma’am,” Mr. Harris said, pushing their purchases across the counter. “You’re gonna clean up fine, young man,” he announced to Jason.

“Ma’am?” Jason halted on the sidewalk and looked up at Alicia. “Don’t you ever ask me to do that again. That fella was…” He groped for a word and Alicia filled the gap nicely.

“I believe
condescending
is the word you’re searching for,” she told him. “And I agree with you entirely. The gentleman needs to learn how to deal with the younger members of the public a bit better. ‘Clean up fine,’ indeed!”

If ever a youth needed some bolstering, it was Jason. Alicia could barely keep her arm from encircling his narrow shoulders, in fact had a hard time resisting the urge to drop a quick kiss on the top of his freshly barbered hair.

“Let’s go and show your father the results of our
morning,” she said briskly, leading the way, paper-wrapped bundle in one hand, her reticule swinging from the other. Jason followed, his package carried in front of him, like an offering. Several townsfolk nodded and eyed the two of them surreptitiously as they made their way home. Alicia breathed a sigh of relief when they turned the corner and walked along the line of picket fences that fronted the properties to the south of Main Street.

“Today was quite an ordeal for you, wasn’t it?” she asked, slowing her pace a bit.

“I didn’t have much fun, if that’s what you mean.” He kicked at a clod of dirt and frowned. “I won’t have to do that again for a long time, will I?”

She thought his words were hopeful, and could not resist a smile. “I know how you feel,” she said.

He looked up at her in surprise. “You do?”

“I dislike shopping for clothing myself,” she confided. “In my case, it’s because I’m not as small as most other women, and I feel uncomfortable choosing things that are the largest size the store has to offer.”

“Being small isn’t so great,” he told her, as if to boost her confidence.

“It is if you’re a woman,” she said, wondering how she’d gotten into this conversation with a child.

“I think you’re a nice lady,” he told her staunchly. “I don’t think you’re too big at all.”

They turned at the open gate and walked to the front steps. “When are we gonna fix this thing?” Jason asked as he stepped carefully on one side of the broken board.

“How about this afternoon?” She waited as he opened the door and then followed him inside the house.

“Pa?” Jason’s voice echoed in the empty hallway, where no carpet muffled the sound. “We’re back, Pa.”

The wheelchair rolled from the back of the house toward them. He eyed their purchases and then waved toward the parlor door. “Let’s go take a look,” he said.

They spread out the clothing over the couch and Jason waited silently as his father inspected each item. “Is it okay, Pa?” he asked hesitantly. “I told Miss Merriweather it was a lot of stuff to get, and I really didn’t need new shoes, but she said you wanted me to have it all.”

Jake looked at Alicia. She sat on a chair, watching as he picked up the shoes they’d chosen. “I think Miss Merriweather did exactly right,” he said finally. “I couldn’t have done better myself.” Then, as if the words he’d spoken registered with him anew, he looked away from her.

“I couldn’t have done as well,” he amended. “It would have been a day-long venture, just getting me to the store and back home. Thank you, ma’am, for helping Jason today.”

She felt the flush of color rise to her cheeks as he
expressed his appreciation. It was the next best thing to a compliment, she decided, both his approval of her actions and his appreciation of her efforts. “I enjoyed it,” she said. “Well—” she smiled at Jason as if they shared a secret “—all but the haircut part. That was an experience I’m not willing to repeat.”

Jake frowned. “Did anyone give you a problem?” he asked harshly. “Did someone say something out of line?”

She shook her head. “No, I just felt uncomfortable in the barbershop with a whole row of men looking me over.”

His eyes narrowed and then he made his own once-over of her appearance. “I don’t see anything about you that would warrant undue interest,” he said, his mouth twisting into a seldom seen smile.

“Well, that certainly put me in my place, didn’t it!”

“You mistake my meaning,” he told her. “You look like a decent, well-dressed woman to me.”

She was silent.
Decent and well-dressed. The epitome of womanhood
. Somehow she would have preferred pretty, or elegant.

“I’ve hurt your feelings.” It was a statement of fact. Jake rolled his chair closer to where she sat. For the second time in their brief acquaintance, he touched her. He reached out his hand and his long fingers grasped hers. Again she felt the warmth he exuded, and this time knew the strength of his grip.
Along with that sensation was a tension that seemed to travel from his hand to hers, a fact that surprised her, causing her to remove her palm from his grip. He looked up at her, eyes narrowed, unsmiling, and then glanced down at his own hand, clearing his throat.

She supposed he was strong, wheeling his chair around the house, lifting himself in and out of bed. She looked at him more fully. How did the man manage to tend to himself? It must be a major undertaking to get from his chair to his bed. She’d known him for almost two weeks—or at least been acquainted with him for that length of time, and was only now curious about the life he lived outside of the confines of that chair.

He reached for her hand again and held it firmly. She looked down at their joined fingers. “My feelings are not so easily hurt. I’m not so soft-skinned as all that.”

“Perhaps your feelings are not especially tender,” he told her. “But you are soft-skinned.” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, and she felt the contact as if he’d dropped hot butter there and then rubbed it in. Silky smooth, his thumb massaged her flesh, and the gentle pressure sent heat shooting up her arm.

The man was only being polite. And she was behaving like a foolish female given her first bit of attention by a member of the opposite gender. Sadly, she’d had few encounters with men, and none of them had led to more
than smiles and murmurs, and one never-to-be-forgotten kiss behind the lilac bush next to her parents’ porch.

This time Jake was the one to break contact, dropping her hand as he backed his chair away and cleared his throat. “I repeat, Miss Merriweather. My thanks for your help.” He looked over at Jason and raised his voice a bit. “How about taking your new things upstairs to your room? I expect you to put them away neatly.”

As Jason gathered up his clothes and shoes and headed for the stairway, Jake turned back to Alicia. “The problem is that I have no idea how bad his room looks. I haven’t been upstairs since we moved into this house. I thought of closing it off, but Jason wanted the bedroom next to the big maple tree and I couldn’t refuse him.”

“Are there bedrooms down here?” she asked, then recognized the foolishness of her query. There must be at least one, if Jake had a bed available to him.

“I sleep in the library,” he told her. “The folks who lived here before called it their study, but I’ve filled it with books. If Jason slept downstairs, he’d have to use the dining room, and that would give him no privacy.”

Alicia rose, smoothing down her skirts. “I think I’d better take my leave, Mr. McPherson.”

“Alicia.” He spoke her name softly and she turned toward him abruptly. “I think we might use our given
names, don’t you? I mean no disrespect, but
Miss Merriweather
is a pretty formal title for a woman who has made herself so important to my son.” He smiled, and the effect was startling. The frown lines on his forehead disappeared and a small dimple appeared in his cheek, matching the one Jason owned.

“I think that would be permitted,” she said. “Shall I call you Jake, or Jacob?”

“Better either one of those choices than the things you’ve been tempted to call me over the past couple of weeks,” he said quietly. He watched her closely. “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

She stood stock-still, her gaze caught by the look of embarrassment he wore. “If I can do something to help, I’ll be happy to accommodate,” she replied.

“Do you think you could trim my hair?” he asked. “I know it’s an imposition, and I have no right to expect such a thing from a lady, but I want Jason to—” He halted in the midst of his explanation and spread his hands wide. “I’m not much of an example for the boy. I’ve let myself become a recluse. I look like a hermit, and Jason deserves better than that from his father.”

Alicia wanted to weep. It took all of her willpower to smile at Jake without allowing tears to well up. “I’d be happy to trim your hair…Jake. I watched Mr. Hamlet cut Jason’s and I really think I could do as well.”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.” He rolled his chair
to the parlor door. “I have a pair of scissors in my room if you wouldn’t mind doing it today.”

The kitchen seemed to be the place best suited for the task, and Alicia found herself pinning a large towel around Jake’s neck ten minutes later. She’d pushed the kitchen table against one wall, freeing up a large area in which to work. Jason sat wide-eyed on a chair and held the scissors. Jake’s shaving mug and straight razor sat on the sink, in preparation for trimming his sideburns, and Alicia held a comb at the ready.

“Shall I wash it first?” she asked, for some reason breathless as she considered the deed she was about to embark upon.

“If you like,” Jake said. “I washed it two days ago, though.”

“It should be fine then,” she said. Gathering her courage, she stepped closer to his chair and ran the comb hesitantly through the length of dark hair. Extending over his collar, it was raggedly trimmed. Obviously Jake had done it himself; the back looked as if it had been sawed at with a dull knife.

Beneath her fingers his hair was soft, silken to the touch, and she inhaled, aware that her breathing was a bit uneven. He glanced up at her, his eyes questioning, as if he sensed her apprehension. “All right?” he asked, then his mouth twitched and his eyes darkened
as if he knew the extent of her unease, and was amused by her dithering.