The Longing (4 page)

“Yes.”

Although Kyle had to raise his voice to be
heard, his grief was apparent. She felt the tightening of his arm
around her waist and wished she could bury her face in his shoulder
and escape the pain that lacerated her heart. Instead she let the
rain slash her cheeks and mingle with her grief as she clung to the
thundering beast beneath her.

As he turned onto Shumla Road, Kyle flung up
his arm to flag her father’s head sawyer who was driving the
oncoming carriage. “Ray!” Kyle yelled. “I’ve got Amelia with
me!”

Ray Hawkins pulled the carriage to the edge
of the road and Kyle slowed his horse. Amelia crushed Kyle’s hand
around the reins. “Don’t stop. It’ll take forever in the
carriage.”

He hesitated then waved Ray back in the
direction from which he’d come. “I’ll take her the rest of the
way,” he yelled, then nudged his horse back into a gallop and left
the carriage behind.

“Papa started the fire for me this morning.”
She needed to tell Kyle that her father had been perfectly alive
that morning and none of this made any sense. “His chest hurt, but
he thought he was getting a cold.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She heard the apology in Kyle’s voice and
knew he was hurting, too. Her father had spoken of Kyle with pride
on many occasions. Now her beloved father would never speak again.
His arms wouldn’t hug her anymore and keep her from feeling alone
in the world. She would never hear his laugh or watch him slap his
thigh when something struck his funny bone. He wouldn’t knock on
her door and break the monotony of her silent evenings by sitting
at her too small table drinking her awful coffee.

Stinging rain streamed across her face and
neck, but Amelia couldn’t close her mouth against the sobs erupting
from her throat. Kyle’s arm tightened around her shuddering waist.
She felt his cheek brush hers, but it didn’t bring her comfort or
stop the shattering of her heart.

His lips touched her temple as he spoke.
“Your father said to tell you that he loves you. He wanted you to
know that.”

Her throat ached and she choked on her tears.
How like her father to spend the last minutes of his life thinking
about her. He’d continually pushed her to find a man who would make
her happy, even though he knew no decent man would want a soiled
bride. Amelia had reminded him each week that she wasn’t allowed to
marry while under contract as a teacher, and that her father’s love
was enough for her. Despite her chronic loneliness, it really
had
been. She’d adored him.

Feeling her sanity eroding in the rain,
Amelia sought something solid to hold on to. She found Kyle’s hand
at her waist and laced her fingers with his, praying his warm grip,
and the lights in the distance, would help her face what was
waiting for her.

The rain had
stopped during the night, but the day dawned as gray and dismal as
Kyle’s mood. Regrets consumed him while he sweated through a long,
grueling afternoon at the mill. He’d wanted to clear his conscience
last night and tell Amelia the truth surrounding her father’s
collapse, to express his regret and apologize, but it would have
increased her distress. So Kyle had given Amelia over to Jeb’s
keeping, offered his condolences to her mother, and escaped into
the blowing rain before Amelia could take his hand again.

Seeing her look at him as if he were a hero
for whisking her through the storm to her father’s side had twisted
Kyle’s gut. He wasn’t a damned hero. He was an idiot!

With an oath, Kyle slammed his hand maul
against the grapple hooks that bound a drag of maple logs. If Tom
hadn’t changed so much, it would have never crossed Kyle’s mind to
doubt him. But Tom had stopped swapping business news with Kyle and
the other mill owners, then he’d started cutting his prices and
hoarding jobs. What else was Kyle to think? Even though Tom was an
admirable man, his erratic behavior had shaken Kyle’s faith and
planted doubts in his mind. Kyle had been justified in confronting
Tom.

“Come on, dammit!” Kyle whacked at the metal
links then gave them a yank. Panting in the scent of wood and
earth, he struggled to pry the metal clasps loose, but couldn’t
dislodge their grip in the bark.

Whether or not he’d been justified in
confronting Tom, Kyle regretted it more than any mistake he’d ever
made—and he’d made some blunders in his life.

More irritated with himself than the stubborn
hooks, Kyle raised his arm and channeled his anger through the
hammer. Iron struck iron and sparks flew. The hammer ricocheted off
the hooks and drove straight into his leg.

With an oath that would have reddened
Lucifer's ears, Kyle heaved the hand maul across the yard.

“Red rip roarin' bastard!” He clamped his
hands over his throbbing shin and plopped down on the rough bark of
the maple tree that he’d been unchaining. “Good for nothing piece
of rubbish! Stubborn hunk o'junk hell-minded hammer.”

He rocked upon the tree trunk in excruciating
pain while he tried to think of other appropriate expletives to
curse the wretched thing. His head reeled and his stomach heaved.
Feeling his shin swelling beneath his hand made him grit his teeth.
He didn’t need this on top of everything else! He rocked in pain
for several minutes, then with a final oath, he launched himself
off the maple log and limped across the field toward home.

Until today his house had seemed conveniently
close, but the ache in his leg and the humid air made the few
hundred yards seem like miles. Knowing he had to attend Tom Drake’s
funeral and face Amelia within the hour merely added to his
misery.

As soon as he'd washed, shaved, and clothed
himself in a suit, Kyle retraced his limping steps across the field
to the barn. It was set well away from the mill in consideration of
the horses, but close enough to house his bay-colored gelding and
the heavy-muscled Percherons that moved the timber.

“What happened to you?” Duke asked from the
open doorway.

As Kyle spun to face his younger brother,
pain ripped through his shin and his leg gave out. He crashed into
a stall and grabbed the half-wall to stop his downward plunge.
“Dammit, Duke! One of these days I'm going to bust your head for
sneaking up on me.”

“That’s how I catch the bad guys.” Duke
folded his arms across his thick chest, his biceps straining the
sleeves of his full dress shirt that was devoid of his sheriff’s
badge. “I saw you limping in here and thought I'd better see how
seriously you were wounded.”

Kyle's lips twisted with disgust. “I hit my
shin with that rotten hammer again. It feels like it shattered my
leg.”

“Do you think it's serious?”

Kyle grimaced as he flexed his foot. “Feels
like it, but probably not.”

“I've got the carriage. How about a lift to
the funeral?”

“I doubt I could make it otherwise.” Kyle
hooked a hand over his brother's shoulder and limped from the barn.
He glanced up at the dreary sky and sighed. “This is one rotten
day.”

“Any day you bury a friend is a bad day,”
Duke said, his voice somber. “I still can’t believe Tom’s
dead.”

Neither can I
, Kyle thought
miserably.

Duke tried to assist Kyle into the carriage,
but Kyle smacked his hands away. “I can manage without your
coddling.”

“All right, hardhead.” Duke climbed in and
waited. “God help the woman who ends up with you and your lovely
disposition.”

“At least she won't be coddled to death.”
Kyle heaved himself aboard. “How do you manage to stay alive?
You’re too softhearted to be a sheriff.”

Duke slapped the reins and set the carriage
in motion. “Just because I wear a badge doesn’t mean I can’t talk
nice to a woman and give her a little affection now and then.”

“Am I supposed to be gleaning some mystical
wisdom from those words?” Kyle suspected Duke was alluding to his
past blindness with Evelyn and Radford and he damned well didn’t
want to talk about it.

Duke glanced at Kyle as though he were an
idiot. “Sweet-talking a woman and coddling her is common
sense.”

“It’s nonsense and a waste of time.”

“Well, you can’t treat them like one of our
crew. You can’t just snap out orders and expect them to jump for
you.” Duke snorted. “Women want affection, Kyle. They want to
talk.”

“Well, I don’t, so save your philosophizing
for someone who needs it.” Duke shook his head and chuckled, but he
kept silent while Kyle spent the balance of the trip thinking about
sweet-talking a woman like Amelia Drake.

o0o

A wave of grief washed over Amelia and she
placed her palm on her father's chest. He'd given her all she
desired, encouraged her education, and taught her to speak her mind
with conviction. Every day he had been a shining example of
integrity and honor. Instead of condemning her for making mistakes,
he’d stood by her through one of the most humiliating times of her
life. Now he was gone.

The only man who’d ever loved her was lying
in a casket, dressed in a Sunday suit, his hair slicked back with
pomade oil. This was not the man she had called father for nearly
twenty-one years. She wanted to remember him standing beside a pile
of hewn maple trees directing the transfer of logs to the sawing
tables, his graying hair ruffled by the breeze and his shirt
sleeves rolled to his forearms.

Amelia adjusted the lapel on his coat then
pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll miss you so.”

“So will I,” her mother said, startling
Amelia as she came up to the casket and ran her hand over her
husband’s chest. Her gaze swept the ornate house, her green eyes
dull, her lovely oval face strained with grief. “It’s unbearable
here without him.”

Worse than unbearable. Amelia’s heart ached
so deeply it pained her to breathe. She clasped her mother’s cold
hands. “Papa would tell us to be strong and to look for the
blessings in each day God gives us. We have to try to do that for
him.”

“Your father would also want you to find
yourself a man who deserves you.” Amelia blinked in surprise, but
her mother didn’t pause. “You should marry, honey.”

Amelia would have married years ago, but
Richard hadn’t wanted her. “I don’t need a husband, Mama. I have
you.”

Disappointment filled her mother’s eyes.
“Don’t you ever want to marry?”

Yes
, Amelia’s soul whispered, but
she shook her head, knowing she never would. “I’m proud of being a
teacher.”

“I know, honey, but you’re missing something
very special. Marriage to the right man is heaven.” Her gaze
shifted to the coffin. “Living without your father is going to be
hell. Absolute, unbearable hell.”

Amelia’s eyes welled up at the pain in her
mother’s bereft expression, but she had no words that would offer
comfort for the depth of grief she and her mother shared.

“The mill would make a nice dowry, you know.
There are plenty of men who would covet a good business and a
beautiful bride. And you need a man to lean on. Especially now.
Find one while you’re still young and beautiful.”

“How, Mama? I’m barely able to walk to town
without an escort from the school board,” Amelia said, pushing the
words from her aching throat. “I’m sorry if it disappoints you, but
I’m going to remain a teacher for the rest of my life.”

“Then I’m going to have to sell the
mill.”

“What?” Amelia’s heart jolted. “Why? Jeb and
Ray can run it for us.”

Her mother shook her head. “We have no ties
to your father’s crew. They could leave us tomorrow. If I can’t
make the mortgage payments, we’ll lose the mill
and
the
house. I can’t risk our only security.”

“But I remember everything I learned during
the summers I spent with Papa. I can help Jeb.”

“You would lose your teaching position the
instant the board got wind of you being there.”

“Well, we can’t just sell something Papa
spent his whole life building!” For Amelia, losing the mill would
be like losing her father a second time. She couldn’t bear it.

“Then use it as a dowry. Find a man you can
depend on, one who’s smart enough to make the business thrive
without sacrificing his life or your marriage to do so.”

If only she could. Amelia would gladly marry
to save her father’s mill, but there weren’t any men in her life.
Not one.

“Your father loved that place, too, honey,
but look what it did to him.” Tears filled her mother’s eyes and
her forehead creased. “He spent his whole life trying to keep that
mill alive and now you and I are alone and we have to sell it off
anyhow.”

Amelia’s heart broke and she put her arms
around her mother. She would give anything to ease her mother’s
grief, but there was nothing she could do. If it were possible, she
would run the mill herself. She had spent each summer there until
she was sixteen years old, trailing her father’s footsteps. She’d
been daddy’s girl and her father had humored her desire to be at
his side. She’d begged his crew to teach her the business, but her
father had refused, claiming it unsuitable work for a young lady.
It hadn’t stopped Amelia from observing and watching, and by her
sixteenth summer she’d weaseled her way into helping him with his
office work.

Her seventeenth summer she’d spent with
Richard.

Her parents had been delighted to see her
interest finally turn toward courting, but the romance that had
given them such high hopes had ended after a few short weeks. Only
her father had known why Richard had stopped calling.

Her mother cupped Amelia’s cheek in her palm,
her eyes filled with apology. “I’m sorry about this, but unless you
marry, we don’t have any other options.”

Amelia bit her lip and nodded. Her mother was
right. Unless Amelia could find a husband, she and her mother would
have to depend on themselves. Knowing her options were nonexistent
just deepened the pain slicing through her.