September Rain (6 page)

She closed her eyes quickly and turned her head.

Oh dear. What was she doing? She was a spinster, an old maid. The kinds of thoughts she was having were totally inappropriate, one might even say unnatural.

Surely, it wasn’t natural to be as curious about a man as she was about Jacob. She’d never heard any of the women in town talking about men, except to complain.

Still, there were occasional passages in some of the books she read that stirred things inside her. Did such thoughts make her a loose woman? Or were all women curious, sooner or later? She smiled wryly. For her it was later. Too late.

As Jacob carefully relaxed back on the bed, Hallie turned with another cup of water.

He looked away, out the window.

“Don’t pretend to ignore me, Jacob Chandler. You will drink this water. I’m responsible for you, seeing as how you got beaten up for me. Don’t dismiss me with a wave of your hand and a cold look either. I’d like to know what you’d be doing right now if I weren’t here.”

For a moment he resisted, then he shot her a glance that might have contained a spark of amusement before he relented and took the cup from her with ill grace.

“That’s right. Drink. And don’t be so quick to think I don’t know anything just because I’m a woman.”

This earned her another glance, but not an amused one. His blue eyes darkened, and after an unconscious flicker of his gaze down her body, he turned his head away. She wished he would quit looking at her like that. Suddenly, she realized it was probably the same way she had looked at him. Her face flushed, even though she was certain he hadn’t noticed her stealing a look.

Surely Jacob Chandler wasn’t having romantic thoughts about her?

Hallie shook her head as she shook out the blanket and laid it over Jacob. As she smoothed the blanket up under his chin, his eyes drifted shut. But suddenly, one hand snaked out and covered hers. His hand was big and warm, as she’d noticed before, and his bruised and scraped fingers were long and blunt, and strong.

She looked up. A light look, almost like a smile, shone from his eyes. Hallie remembered that look. It was just like the one he’d given her in the store. A warmth stole over her.

She thought she could stay here forever with his hand on hers as she basked in the glow of his smile. Shyly she smiled back. His eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened around hers.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly. “Now, get some sleep, so you can recover and I can feel comfortable leaving you here.”

He frowned briefly, then closed his eyes and his hand relaxed over hers.

Hallie didn’t really want to extract her fingers from his, but she couldn’t just sit there all night with her hand on his chest.

As a matter of fact, what was she going to do all night? She looked around. “You don’t have much in the way of sleeping arrangements for guests,” she murmured.

She shook out the second blanket and wrapped herself in it without getting undressed. “I guess this will have to do, although with the rain, it certainly is getting cold in here. You should have taken the time to build a shutter for that window. We’ll be lucky if we don’t freeze to death.”

She listened to the rain pummeling the tin roof. “I guess we’re in for an early winter, what with the cold rain starting this early in September. My father always said September rain foretold a hard winter, while November rain indicated it would be wet but mild. You know what? I never asked him what rain in October foretold.”

She sat down in the chair and pulled the blanket close around her, an emptiness gnawing inside her. “I never asked him a lot of things,” she said sadly. “We take our families for granted, don’t we? I thought Daddy would always be there for me, would always take care of me. Then, after he got sick, I merely accepted the fact that we’d changed places, and I would always be there for him. It never occurred to me that he would die.” She tucked the blanket under her chin.

“I am tired. I guess it takes a lot out of a person getting attacked and then riding for hours on a horse.” She looked over at the bed. “Of course, you got the worst end of the deal, didn’t you? I mean, that drifter knocked me down and choked me, but thanks to you that’s all that happened to me.”

She wrapped her arms about herself, drawing the blanket closer. “I’m so sorry they beat you, Jacob. It was my fault. I suppose I should have listened to Mr. Myers and not walked home alone. I’ve always tried to be independent. It’s a good thing, too, because now that Daddy’s gone, I’m all alone.”

Her eyes drifted closed as she talked. “I suppose the attacker must have thought I carried money. I am of an age that I am in little danger of being accosted for my favors.” A frisson of fear skittered up her spine as she remembered the man’s hands on her legs, violating her.

“Brent Myers says he wants me to marry him.” She shuddered. “I know why. There’s little enough reason he’d want to marry an old maid like me. He’s searching for respectability. Everyone in town knows where he spends most nights and I’m certain that would not change. Even if he swore to remain true until his dying day, I would never marry him. Not even to keep him from taking my store away from me.”

Hallie shifted and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “But it would be nice to be married. I can imagine that loving someone would be wonderful. And children. Oh how nice it would be to have children.” She stopped in horror, realizing what she’d said.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I do hope you’re asleep. I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

She watched him for a moment, but he lay still and quiet, although the deep furrow was still between his brows and his mouth was still set hard.

“I wish you could relax. If there was some way I could stop your pain, make you feel better, I would.” She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

Jacob stole a look at the woman who had invaded his lonely life. She’d walked into his cabin and within a few short hours had begun to make it into a home. His gaze moved to the jar of flowers on his table. A queer ache began inside him at the purely female gesture.

His wife had done that--picked flowers, cooked special, fragrant soups and stews, so much tastier than boiled potatoes and meat. He’d never thought of this cabin as home, but Hallie was making him think of several things he had not considered in a long time.

And he didn’t like thinking those things, any more than he liked her constant stream of conversation. He had probably heard more talking today than he had in the entirety of the past three years. Her chatter irritated the hell out of him, while in an odd way it was also comforting. One thing was for sure though, he knew how to shut her up.

"--wish I could do something to help you sleep," she was saying.

He took a deep breath. “You could hush up,” he said, surprised at the rusty sound of his voice, but oddly pleased that he managed to make any noise at all.

CHAPTER SIX

Hallie jumped straight up from the chair. “What?” she cried, pressing a hand to her breast.

Jacob wiped a hand down his face, grunting at the pain the gesture caused him, then turned to look out the window. Now that he’d spoken, he was sorry.
Damned sorry
. He’d given in to an impulse, and he was probably going to regret it for the rest of his life.

He knew Hallie wouldn't let up on him now that she knew he could talk. Damn her for being so irritating, and so appealing. Damn her for caring.

Hallie’s heart was pounding so loud she could feel it all the way down to her toes. Her fingers tingled and her ears burned with shock. “You--you--”

She stood there for a moment, but the figure on the bed might have been carved from stone. He didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. Wavering between shock and fury, she grabbed the lantern and turned the wick up, then held it over the bed, the light flickering from the trembling of her hands.

Jacob’s features closed in a frown.

“Stop that,” she demanded. “Stop ignoring me. You talked.” Her voice rasped past the tightness in her throat and her eyes stung. Jacob Chandler had spoken. She held the lantern close to his face. “Look at me.”

With an air of weary resignation, Jacob turned his face to hers and lifted his gaze slowly. His eyes looked purple in the red glow of the lantern.

“Say something.”

He just looked at her.

“Say something!” Hallie wanted to shake him. “You talked. I heard you. Now say something.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed and he ran the backs of his fingers across his throat. Then he licked his lips. “Like what?”

Hallie stared at his mouth. The sound was barely a whisper, and rusty as an old gate hinge, but it was a voice. It was Jacob's voice.

“Oh,” she gasped quietly, then collapsed on the edge of the bed, her legs no longer able to hold her up. The shaking in her hands had spread to encompass her entire body. Quickly, she put down the lantern.

To her great chagrin, she felt tears start in her eyes. She put her hands over her mouth and breathed slowly, until her heart stopped pounding.

“You can talk. Oh, Jacob.” She pressed her lips tightly together and blinked rapidly, but still the tears slipped down her cheeks. She shook her head and gave him a quavery smile. “I’m so glad.”

He scowled at her, still rubbing his throat.

“Why haven’t you talked since--I mean, in all this time?” Suddenly she was stumbling over her words, she who never had trouble with conversation.

He shook his head once, almost a jerk. Then his eyes met hers and Hallie saw in them a sadness so profound it made her heart ache.

Jacob Chandler considered Hallie's question. It was a fair one. One he had asked himself more than once. He hadn’t said a word since he’d first realized he was alive. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his grief. He’d never shared the guilt or the agony of lying on the ground, his blood soaking into the dirt, knowing his wife lay dying beside him and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.

It had been three years since he’d last spoken, since he’d had a reason to speak. Now, the need to say something to this woman who had invaded his loneliness was compelling, if not entirely welcome, much like the heavy, sweet pain in his loins. He blinked against the sudden sting in his eyes.

Hallie’s face reflected the compassion she felt for him. “Why, Jacob? Why have you let people think you were crazy? Why haven’t you talked?”

He shrugged gingerly. “It hurts,” he managed. It was the best he could do as an explanation, and if he were lucky, she’d take it literally. It was true as far as it went. He rubbed his knuckles over the scar. His throat already throbbed with a raw ache.

Jacob sat rigid under her scrutiny, and he knew the exact second the full meaning of his words washed over her. The blood drained from her face, making her dark eyes look as big as silver dollars.

He wanted to touch her cheek, to wipe away the anguish he’d put there. He wanted to tell her she was wrong to think he was talking about a pain other than physical. But he couldn’t, because she knew.

He had the extremely uneasy feeling Hallie Greer was going to know a lot about him before he could manage to get rid of her.

“Ex — excuse me,” she stammered. She stood and ran out the door of the cabin.

Jacob wiped his face and groaned. He hated knowing what she was thinking. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of him, so she’d run outside. But she wasn’t quick enough. He’d seen her tears. He debated the advisability of going after her, but it would do no good for both of them to be wet and cold, and he was in no mood to offer comfort.

He hadn’t even wanted her here in the first place. What business was it of hers whether or not he could talk? He flexed his sore muscles carefully. He’d helped her because she was a woman in trouble. Still, he’d known she was in trouble only because he’d been watching her, and he’d been watching her because he couldn't figure out why she’d haunted his dreams for the four months since the last time he’d seen her.

That morning in the store, he’d almost spoken to her. He’d almost thanked her for being so sweet and caring, for looking him straight in the eye, for treating him like a person.

But that didn’t mean he wanted her up here invading his privacy, making a home out of his cabin. And it sure didn’t mean he wanted her trying to bring his dead soul back to life.

He wished she’d come on back inside, because it was going to hurt like hell for him to get up to go fetch her.

##

HALLIE COWERED under the narrow eaves, away from the worst of the blowing rain and cried. She couldn’t stop crying. She cried more than she had when her father died.

It hurts
.

The desolation and grief in those two words overwhelmed her. She had never known such sadness. She had never experienced the kind of pain Jacob Chandler had. There were no words of comfort she could offer him, no balm to soothe the ache that must have eaten a hole in his soul.

She’d tried to escape before he saw her tears, but she wasn’t sure she'd succeeded. He was so hurt, and she needed to be strong for him. She hadn’t meant to cry. As she very well knew, crying did no good. It only made a mess of one’s face and caused embarrassment to everyone.

Later, with her fingers freezing and her face burning from the rain and her tears, Hallie stepped back inside, the relative warmth of the cabin sending shivers through her body. She hoped Jacob was asleep, but when she stepped quietly over to the bed to pick up her blanket, she felt his eyes on her.

“Better?” he whispered.

Hallie shot him a sharp glance. His face held a glimmer of amusement that overlay the sadness and pain. An especially strong shudder racked her.

“I’m cold,” he said softly, in his ruined voice.

“You’re --” she frowned at him. He was cold? She quivered inside her wet clothes. He hadn’t stood outside and cried in the cold September rain. His feet weren’t like ice. His hands weren’t aching. He’d been in here under the blanket.

It hurts
.

Suddenly, Hallie realized what he was doing. He was inviting her to share his warmth. To share his bed. She averted her eyes from his. Deliberately misunderstanding his meaning, she nodded.