Stay a Little Longer (32 page)

Rachel gasped. “Did he see you?” she asked nervously.

“No,” he answered. “At least not right then.”

Mason explained that ever since the day he had gone to the cemetery and had made his peace with Eliza, he’d been doing a lot
of thinking about his father. Undeniably, Sherman Tucker had played an essential role in Mason’s life, as a mentor as well
as a parent. That he hadn’t told his father he was still alive, especially considering Sherman’s failing health, was something
he needed to rectify. When he had encountered his brother, the desire to see his father simply became too great to ignore.

“So you followed Zachary?” Rachel asked.

Mason nodded. “You had mentioned that Zachary still lived with my father, so I kept pace with him until he arrived. Once we
came in sight of the house, absolutely nothing was going to stop me from seeing Papa.”

“But with Zachary there, how did you manage?”

With his face touched by a hint of mischief, Mason told her of how he had accomplished his goal; Rachel listened breathlessly
as he recounted climbing the tree, scaling the roof, and making his way into his father’s darkened room.

“When I looked down at him, when I saw how much he had changed, maybe because he thought I’d died in the war, I felt devastated.
I couldn’t believe my absence had caused that much pain. Even after learning that Alice had died in childbirth and seeing
the burden that was placed upon you and the void that it made in Charlotte’s life, it wasn’t until that moment, seeing my
father in that state, that I truly realized how much anger and suffering I caused for everyone.”

Though there had undeniably been a time when Rachel would have been a willing voice in the raging chorus of hatred for Mason
Tucker, blaming him for the misfortune that had befallen Alice and her family, her feelings had unquestionably changed. Listening
to him speak with such heartfelt anguish filled her with compassion.

“When my father spoke to me, my heart nearly broke,” Mason added.

“Did… did he know that it was you?”

“He looked at me and said my name, reached out and put his hand on my scars and appeared to have recognized that it was me,
but with his health so clearly deteriorating, I wonder if he’ll even remember I was there the next time he wakes. Hell, even
if he does recall my visit, he’ll probably think it was nothing but an unwelcome dream.”

“But you fulfilled your wish,” Rachel argued. “You got to see him.”

“I did,” Mason acknowledged with a frown. “Unfortunately, that’s not the worst of it.”

“What happened?” she asked, her voice panicked.

“I think that Zachary might have seen me as I was leaving.”

“Oh, dear!” Dread filled Rachel’s chest at the thought of Zachary once again becoming involved in their lives. Having already
stated his intense and seemingly insatiable desire to own the boardinghouse, demonstrating it through his willingness to have
Otis attacked as Rachel believed, she knew that there was no telling what Mason’s brother was capable of. “Are you sure?”

“Not entirely,” Mason admitted truthfully. “The room was almost as dark as midnight, and by the time he opened the door, I’d
already made my way back outside. By the time he made it to the window, I would have been shooting down the tree. The problem
is that I
don’t
know for sure. There’s no way of knowing whether he got a good enough look to identify me or not, but knowing what Zachary
is like, the lengths to which he will go, taking such a risk doesn’t strike me as very smart.”

“We need to be extremely careful now, Mason,” Rachel fretted. “If he even suspects that you’ve returned, we’re all in for
a peck of trouble! You can’t even risk going outside! If he were to know for certain—”

“No, Rachel,” he answered firmly.

“But—”

“I will not spend the rest of my life hiding,” Mason said calmly. “What am I supposed to do? Stay locked up here in the boardinghouse,
never so much as showing my face in public again? We both know that such a way of living isn’t for any of us. No, the time
has come for me to reenter the life that I left behind. I’ve already done too much hiding.”

“What if he—”

“Trust me. I won’t allow anything to happen to you or yours, I promise.”

Listening to Mason speak, Rachel allowed herself to be soothed by his assurances. She knew that her initial reaction had been
wrong, even a bit cowardly, but with all that had happened since the day she followed Charlotte out into the woods, she found
her concern difficult to ignore. Though she was still frightened of what Zachary Tucker was capable of, she trusted Mason
to do what was right.

“I didn’t mean that you should run,” she said regretfully. “I truly didn’t.”

“I know,” he quieted her, “but if I intend to resume some semblance of the life I once had here in Carlson, I am eventually
going to have to let people know that I’m alive.”

“That’s what you want? To resume your life?”

“What I want is to go forward, to stop running and be the parent that Charlotte needs me to be,” Mason said, taking a step
toward where Rachel stood. “But I don’t want to do that alone. I want…”

“Mason?” she said. Her heart was pounding. “Tell me what you want… please tell me…”

Mason drew nearer, taking her hands in his own. The heat of his touch surprised her. For a long moment, neither spoke, content
simply to stare into each other’s eyes. Rachel felt as if she were swimming in the blue depths of Mason’s gaze.

“The other night I told you that I didn’t want your role in Charlotte’s life to change,” he said, speaking of the memories
that had roiled about in Rachel’s anxious heart only minutes earlier. “But that’s not all I want.”

“Tell me,” Rachel said softly.

Mason’s eyes held her every bit as solidly as if she were in his arms. When he spoke, his words drove the very breath from
her chest. “While I can never completely know what my future will hold, I do know what I desire for it, and that is for you
to be part of it. I’m asking for you to share in my life as well as Charlotte’s.”

“But Mason, how can that be?” she protested, voicing the very fear that had been nestled deep in her heart from the first
moment she had acknowledged that her love for him was not sisterly. “I’m not Alice, and she was the love of your life.”

“And she was my wife,” he answered swiftly.

“But doesn’t that mean that—”

“The truth is that Alice is gone, Rachel,” Mason said. “Gone from both of our lives. Spending the rest of our days needlessly
wishing it to be otherwise will only make us miserable. But just as I can’t allow myself to live in the past, to stop jumping
from one train car to the next, I refuse to deny what I’ve been feeling for you.”

He loves me!

To hear Mason speak such heartfelt words, to learn that the man she yearned for wanted her too, sent shivers of joy racing
through Rachel. Desperately, she searched for words to answer, to finally reveal her own feelings for him, but found herself
speechless, silent in the face of the glory of the moment, helpless to fight any longer against the emotions she had been
feeling.

Mason was right; Alice was gone. Making peace with that fact had been hard, but she had done so. Being in love with her sister’s
former husband was complicated and confusing, but it wasn’t wrong. It was possible, wonderful—and right! There might be those
who found their love inappropriate, but there was no denying that it existed and could warm them the rest of their lives.

Impulsively, Rachel rose up on the tips of her toes and brushed a caressing hand against his scarred cheek. There was no going
back. Tenderly, he lowered his face toward hers, his fingers delicately lifting her chin.

Just before their lips touched, he asked, “Is this what you want, Rachel?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Oh, yes, Mason.”

Straining upward toward him, she melted into him. His arms enveloped her, pulling her to him. Closing her eyes, Rachel allowed
herself to surrender to the emotions that coursed between them, to answer his demanding kiss with passion of her own, to succumb
to the overwhelming desire that pulsed through their entwined bodies.

One of Mason’s hands found the small of her back and the desire that cascaded through Rachel made her weak in the knees. With
a feeling that was almost desperation, she kissed him even more passionately, her mouth exploring his, hungry for something
she had longed for, when Mason met her intensity with more of his own.

In that moment, nothing mattered: not that Mason had once been Alice’s husband, not that he had been gone for eight long years,
not that he had been scarred by the ravages of war, not that everyone in Carlson still believed him to be dead, and not even
that Zachary posed a danger to all of them. The only thing of consequence was that they were together, that they had declared
their feelings for each other, and that they would go forward together.

When their kiss finally ended, Rachel opened her eyes to find that heavy snowflakes covered their shoulders. Even as flakes
melted against her hair, catching on her lashes, her eyes probed Mason’s face.

“Where do we go from here?” she asked.

“Anywhere we want to,” Mason answered simply.

Without any doubt, Rachel knew that he was right; now that they had admitted what lay in their hearts, and with Charlotte
in the circle of their love, there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish together.

Rachel set her oil lamp down on the floor and checked the lock on the front door of the boardinghouse. The old grandfather
clock that had sat at the foot of the steps since she was a child chimed midnight, twelve uneven bongs that reverberated across
the room. The only other sounds were the creaks and groans of the old building settling in the cold, snowy November night.

Glancing out the frost-dappled window, she saw that the snow continued to fall heavily; the hard ground was already covered
with two inches of fluffy white powder. Smiling, she returned to her task; every night since Otis had been attacked on his
way home from the tavern, Rachel had made it a habit to check all the doors and windows. With Zachary possibly having seen
Mason, there was every reason to be careful. Even now, her emotions running unchecked, she knew that she had to remain diligent
for the safety of the family.

And their futures… including mine and Mason’s…

Parting with Mason on the porch had been one of the most difficult things she had ever done, so great was her desire to remain
in his arms. Even bidding him a good night’s sleep with another passionate kiss had done little to quench the fire that filled
her. Though they had only been apart for just moments, she couldn’t wait to see him again.

Picking up the oil lamp, she walked the short hallway to the kitchen, intent upon making certain that the latch on the window
was secure; with that done, she could finally get some rest. With her every step, shadows danced on the walls in the flickering
flame of the lamplight; though she was used to such illusions, the memory of being attacked by Jonathan Moseley suddenly rose
up in her thoughts, unsettling her.

She pushed open the door to the kitchen and set the lamp down on the table. The flame jumped for a moment before settling
into a steady burn. She checked the window, and found that the lock was still engaged, but as she turned back toward the lamp,
she felt a draft of cold air race across her skin. Looking around the room, she noticed the door that led to the porch was
ajar, a sliver of the night visible past the jamb. She was certain that she had locked it only minutes before…

Before she could turn around, a rough hand clamped down on her mouth, silencing the scream that rose in her throat. Though
she tried to struggle, she was held in place effortlessly.

“Keep still, or you’re gonna get hurt,” a man’s voice threatened in her ear. “Badly.”

T
RAVIS JEFFERSON ANGRILY
clamped one hand down on the woman’s mouth while his other arm firmly grabbed her about the waist. She struggled for a moment,
unsure and frightened of what was happening to her, but she quieted a bit after he warned her of the consequences she would
face in fighting him. He had no qualms whatsoever about hurting a woman; if this bitch must be roughed up a bit, he wouldn’t
lose one damn second of sleep over it.

He cursed himself for having been caught unawares in the kitchen; he took pride in doing his job properly, but this time it
had all gone to hell.

Patiently, he had waited outdoors in the falling snow, watching through the frosted glass as Rachel Watkins left the kitchen
for the deeper recesses of the boardinghouse. Jimmying the lock had been so simple that he wondered why it had been installed
in the first place. He’d just entered the kitchen when the flickering light once again began to move toward him.

Travis still might have gotten away without being seen, managing to hide in the inky shadows, but he had little doubt his
goose was cooked when the woman had noticed the door still ajar. At that point, he had no choice but to act.

When Zachary Tucker had come to him earlier in the day with the proposition of returning to the boardinghouse, to see if the
inhabitants had any sort of information about the banker’s long-dead brother, Travis had jumped at the chance, smiling all
the way out the door. It didn’t matter to him that his odds of success were slim at best; after all, his employer was obviously
feeling the stress of his negotiations with the railroad company. What
did
matter was that he had another opportunity to redeem himself.

The truth was that he was frustrated that his attack on that fat drunkard of an uncle had not worked, that his clear message
to sell the property had fallen upon deaf ears. He thought that a broken arm would convey his message far better than any
words ever could. Failure was something he refused to tolerate in his profession. This time, he would be successful, no matter
what means he had to employ. To that end, he’d come with a knife safely tucked into the cuff of his boot. If someone ended
up cut, then so be it. He was ready for whatever might come his way.