She smiled, remembering the day Jane Essex had walked into the special ed class. "She made a friend in her class. Her friend had something called dyslexia." "What's that?"
"It's a problem lots of people have." Tess took hold of Katie's small hands and drew them into her lap. "It's where letters get all jumbled around in your mind and seem to blur and dance on the page. Is that what it's like for you?"
Katie swallowed hard and nodded. "Uh-huh." "Her friend was smart as a whip, too." "Did ... did she learn how to read?" "She sure did. It took her a little longer, but she worked really hard and learned how." Tess stroked Katie's hair,
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looked deeply into her eyes. "I know how you feel. But
you're not dumb. Do you want to learn to read?"
Katie's bottom lip quivered. Tears flooded her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. She tried to look away, but Tess wouldn't let her. "Katie?"
A watery sob escaped her. "I'm afraid." "Will you let me try to help you? I learned a lot watching my friend."
She hiccuped. "I dunno. What if?" "No what ifs, Katie. You can do it. You can. All you have to say is yes."
Katie swallowed thickly and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I wanna learn to read," she said quietly.
Tess felt a sense of accomplishment and pride and love so big, she couldn't believe it. Smiling, she ruffled Katie's hair. "Come on, kiddo, we better get back to the house before your daddy and sister call out the National Guard."
"The what?"
Laughing, Tess got to her feet and brushed the burrs and grass stalks from her skirt. Together, hand in hand, they walked back to the house.
Chapter Fourteen
High overhead, the hot sun peeked through a layer of cottony clouds. The sapphire-blue sky melted into the equally blue Straits, its watercolor wash broken only by the huge green hump of Vancouver Island.
Jack poured a bucket of water into the long metal trough. At the splash, sheep turned in unison and herded together, moving in a huge dirty white bubble toward him. He shoved the hat back on his head and reached down, grabbing the empty pails. Buckets clanking, he walked down the gravelly dirt path toward home. "Hey, Jack!"
Jack yanked his head up and looked at the road above
the farm. A wagon was rumbling past in a cloud of dust.
Jack forced a thin smile and waved back. Damn, he'd
forgotten that the Hannahs were coming today with the
supplies he'd ordered.
It wasn't surprising that he'd forgotten. He'd been sort of ... unfocused today. No matter how much he tried to bury himself in work, he hadn't been able to concentrate. Hadn't been able to forget. The kiss.
He groaned, feeling again the wave of desire and need that had coursed through his body as her moist, tempting lips had touched his. The kiss had been ... special. He couldn't think of any other way to put it. Like Amarylis
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and yet unlike her. Crazily, he thought it was like the woman she'd become recently?caring, tender, loving. Like Lissa.
Jesus, he was starting to lose his mind.
"Shit," he cursed softly, his fingers tightening involuntarily around the thin metal handles.
All morning he'd reminded himself of who she was and what she was doing. Over and over again he'd told himself it was simply another game, another ploy to ultimately hurt him and the kids.
But, God help him, this time he couldn't make himself believe the damning words. Every time he thought of the cruel things she'd done in the past, he saw her as she was now. Laughing, smiling, standing up to that old battle-ax at the school, throwing burnt biscuits, kissing Caleb's tummy.
Maybe. It was that word, and everything it represented, that kept tangling up his mind. Maybe she really had forgotten the old hatreds, the old wounds. Maybe this time it was all real. Maybe ...
He said under his breath, "Christ, don't let me believe it unless it's true."
Tess heard the unmistakable thud of running feet, and paused in her work. Wiping her sweaty hands on her apron, she went to the kitchen window and peeked outside.
Jack was running toward the house. She let the curtain fall back in place and nervously rewiped her hands.
She hadn't talked to Jack since yesterday. Since she'd kissed him. They'd sat across from each other at supper, each silent and thoughtful, then Jack had bolted from the house and disappeared in the barn. Not surprisingly, he'd stayed there until long after Tess went to bed, and left the house before she wakened this morning.
She'd wanted to talk to him. She'd even thought about
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barging into the barn this morning and demanding that they talk. But about what? That was the question that had stopped her.
What could she say about that kiss that would make sense to either one of them? That she shouldn't have done it? Or that she was glad she had?
She shivered although the room was stiflingly hot, and crossed her arms. The spicy, cinnamon-thick scent of baking pie swirled around her. Closing her eyes, she remembered the soft, hesitant feel of his lips on hers. The way his tongue had darted out and touched hers, the bolt of electricity that had rocked through her blood at the moist, hot contact. It had been unlike any kiss she'd ever experienced, filled with the fiery heat of passion and the comforting warmth of caring. She felt as if she'd kissed him before?long ago in a time now forgotten.
Suddenly the door burst open and Jack barreled into the kitchen. He stopped, breathing heavily, and stared at her. "Lissa? The Hannahs?" He stopped midsentence and noticed the kitchen.
His gaze darted from place to place, pausing at each carefully placed bric-a-brac before it moved on. He noticed every change. "What are you doing?"
The brandy-smooth tone of his voice slid down Tess's back, reminding her again of the kiss they'd shared.
She licked her lower lip nervously. Suddenly it was important that he appreciate what she'd done here. What she could do. "I'm making your house a home."
He flinched, the flesh at the corners of his eyes tightening. "My house, huh?"
Tess moved close enough to be taken in his arms. She felt the heat of his body radiating toward her, warming her. The soft exhalations of his breath slid across her forehead. He didn't move; he remained stiff and wary, his hands bolted to his thighs.
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"Look at me, Jack."
Reluctantly he looked down at her.
She tilted her face up and met his wary gaze. This was it, she realized. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out onto that rickety limb and handed him her heart. "You're right. This home is ours."
He paled, but didn't look away. They stood there, close enough to touch and yet careful not to, their gazes locked.
Tess wanted to say something more, wanted to break through the silence they'd obviously lived in for years, but she didn't know how. She felt as if it was suddenly within reach, that elusive something she'd sought so desperately all her life. All she had to do was lean forward and let him
kiss her....
The sound of wagon wheels crunching over small rocks seeped through the half-opened kitchen door and broke the
spell.
"Jim and Minerva are here with the supplies," Jack said lamely. At her blank look, he added, "From the farm next door. Be nice to them, okay?"
"Of course."
Jack turned to go, but at the door, he stopped. "Uh ... the house looks nice," he said quickly. Then he was gone.
Jack ran down the porch steps as if the Devil himself were on his heels, and raced to the safety of the Hannahs'
wagon.
"Good morning, Mr. Rafferty," said Minerva Hannah from her perch on the wagon's wooden seat. "I've brought a few things for Mrs. Rafferty. I would have come sooner, but I only just saw Doc Hayes and heard about the baby."
"I'm sure she'll be pleased by your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Hannah. May I help you down?"
"Thank you."
Minerva offered a gloved hand to Jack and allowed herself to be helped to the ground.
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Jim slid across the low-slung seat and jumped down beside her. "Lordy, it's a hot one for May," he said, shoving the straw farmer's hat higher on his head. "I got all them supplies you asked for. They're in the back."
Minerva smiled softly and touched her husband's arm. "Jim, honey, if you get me that box out of the back, I'll run on into the house while you men talk." "Sure thing."
Jack stared at Minerva's small, gloved hand, noticing the gentle, possessive way her fingers lingered against the rough wool of her husband's sleeve. He stood rooted to the spot, motionless and unblinking, thrown suddenly into a world all his own. A world in which once, long ago, his wife had touched him like that.
Ours. Lissa had said the word so quietly that at first he thought he'd imagined it. Ours. If only it were true . . .
The thought came so fast, so unexpectedly, that he had no armor raised against it. Longing and despair spilled through in its wake, bringing with it the inevitable fear. Need closed around his neck with cold, suffocating fingers.
What was she doing to him?
Suddenly he felt as if he were standing on a slippery slope of mud instead of firm, stable farmland, fighting a battle he'd thought he'd gained the upper hand in long ago.
He was losing his will to fight. Even knowing how easily she could manipulate him didn't keep him from seeing the impossible softness in her eyes. The softness that had left her gaze long ago and never really returned.
Except, of course, in his mind. There it had never left. There, in that crazy, cowardly, mixed-up place where nothing was what it seemed, and nothing seen could be believed, she'd always looked at him like that.
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Only now the line between reality and fantasy was blurring. He wasn't sure if anything about her?about them?
was real.. ..
God help him, for one moment in the kitchen, when she'd whispered ours, he'd believed in her completely. "You're a fool," he muttered. "What was that, Mr. Rafferty?"
Minerva's voice wrenched him back to the real world. Jack shook his head to clear it. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just another game, another goddamn way to hurt him. Anything to make him feel, and once he did, anything to make him hurt. Amarylis had been playing the game for years. Like the night Caleb had been conceived. That wonderful, magical night.. . and the horrible, humiliating morning ...
He had to remember that night, the way she'd manipulated and shamed him. No matter what she did, or how she appeared, he had to remember that she hated him with a singleness of spirit that made her iron-strong.
He squeezed his eyes shut as a cold wave of regret washed through him. If only he weren't so damned weak. If only he didn't love her so goddamn much ...
When the knock on the door came, Tess ran her hands down the coarse linsey-woolsey of her dress and glanced quickly around the kitchen.
Satisfied, she rushed to the door and pulled it open, finding a tall, thin, beautiful woman standing on the porch. A flowered straw bonnet hid her hair, but the blue-gray eyes that sparkled beneath its brim were bright and intelligent. The woman smiled tentatively. "Good morning, Mrs. Rafferty. I trust I'm not disturbing you?"
"Are you kidding? I'm thrilled to have a grownup to talk to. Come on in."
A moment's confusion passed through Minerva's eyes.
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Tess was reminded of Jack's warning to be nice. No doubt Amarylis had been rude to the neighbors.
Tess put forth her best don't-be-shy smile. "Please," she said, motioning to the kitchen table. "Come on in."
"Thank you, Mrs. Rafferty," she said, following Tess into the kitchen.
"Call me Lissa."
Minerva eyed her warily. "Certainly. And you must call me Minerva."
"Great. Now, what do you have in that box? It smells heavenly."
Minerva set the slatted wooden box on the floor. "Nothing much. Just a cold meat pie and bread. Doc Hayes said you'd had a rough time of it. I thought you might like a break from cooking."
"That's very thoughtful of you." Smiling again, she crossed quickly to the stove and put water on to boil. The quiet click of the door being opened got her attention. Turning, she saw Minerva leaving. "Minerva, wait!"
Minerva peered cautiously over her shoulder. "Yes, Mrs. ... Lissa?"
"H-Have I done something to offend you?" The confusion returned to Minerva's eyes. "Why, no, of course not. It's just that ..." She shrugged. "Well, to be honest, you've always asked me to leave before." "Wow." "Excuse me?"
Tess hurried to the door and put a hand on Minerva's shoulder. "Please forgive my rude behavior in the past. I'd like to start fresh, if that's all right. I've had sort of a change of ... heart since this baby."
Minerva stared into Tess's eyes for a moment. Then, slowly, she smiled. "I'd like that." * * *
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Jack couldn't believe his ears. There was laughter coming from the kitchen. It floated through the open window and danced on the light spring breeze.
Jim yanked the last bag of oats off the wagon and slung it over his shoulder. "Sounds like the girls are having fun," he said, flopping the heavy burlap sack beside the oak
tree.
Jack swiped his damp brow with his shirt-sleeve and stared at the window. The quiet murmuring of voices, peppered now and then by bursts of laughter, aroused his curiosity. He tried to ignore it, tried to pretend he couldn't
care less.
But he couldn't quite manage it. She'd never given two whits about the neighbors. As far as she was concerned, anyone not born to money in the South was poor white trash. She'd made a point of not being nice to the islanders, as if she was afraid she might actually be happy here.
"That coffee sure smells good," Jim said.
Jack glanced up, surprised that Jim had spoken. Jim immediately looked away and reached for another bag of
grain.
He thinks I'm a loose cannon, Jack thought. And why not? After last Fourth of July, the whole damn island thought Jack was crazy as a bedbug. He couldn't figure out why in the hell the Hannahs didn't steer clear of him,
like everyone else.
"Sure does," Jack answered. "What do you say we go
have a cup?"
They crossed the yard and bounded up the sagging wooden steps two at a time. Jack had only a moment's hesitation as he turned the knob and opened the door.
Sitting at the table, Lissa glanced up in surprise. The eggshell-thin rim of her teacup kissed her full lower lip. Steam wafted up from the cup and tugged at the wispy golden strands along her brow.
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"Hi, Jack." Her voice was as warm and rich as the aroma of coffee hovering in the room.
Jack felt as if he'd been flung back in time. He had to be dreaming the softness in her eyes. He had to be.
He was moving toward her; he could feel the movements of his body, and yet he had no control over them. Before he knew it, he was beside her. She smiled up at him. Her hand landed on his forearm with butterfly softness and lingered there.
God, you're beautiful. He stopped the words just in time and lurched backward.
"Jack?" All three voices said his name at once, and Jack immediately felt like an idiot. "Sorry," he said "I stumbled."
"And no wonder, with as hard as you two have been working," Minerva said easily.
"Sit down," Lissa said. "I just finished making a pot of coffee, and if I do say so myself, it's pretty good."
Jim shot her a questioning look as he sat down. "You sound surprised. Why wouldn't?"
"Don't ask, Jim," Jack said, sitting beside the man. "And?just a bit of friendly advice?don't drink the coffee."
Lissa poured two more cups of coffee. Plunking them down on the table in front of the men, she took a seat across from Jack. "My husband has some doubt regarding my c
ulinary skills, Jim." She looked up at Jack. "Shall I offer them a biscuit?"
Jack almost spit up his coffee. He glanced up from his cup and found himself staring across the table into her eyes. Flyaway hair curled around her face in a halo of honey gold light. Her eyes were on him, only him, and for the space of a heartbeat, he would have sworn she was looking at him with genuine affection. Absentmindedly
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she tucked a lock of disobedient hair around her ear. Her hands moved with a grace he'd never seen before.
Jim started talking about shearing. The words rumbled together, became meaningless as Jack stared at his wife. She was sitting perched on the end of her chair, as if she were really listening. Her elbows were planted lightly on the table?something no southern lady would ever do-? and her chin rested on the knuckles of her left hand. The wedding ring he'd given her so long ago glowed dully against her pale flesh.
"Jack? Jack?"
He was staring so intently at his wife, it was a moment before Jack realized that Jim was speaking to him. "What? Uh, sorry, I was thinking about the west pasture. What were you saying, Jim?"
"I was talking about the British evacuation of the island. I heard that ..."
Jack's attention turned away from the casual conversation. Try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on Jim's words. All he could think about was Lissa, and the way she'd just touched him. Even now he could feel the vague, remembered warmth of her fingers against his arm. He stared at the flowers in the middle of the table until they became an unfocused blur of color.
"Jack?"
His name was a whispered caress against his ear. It sent a bolt of fire through his body. He stiffened.
She was standing behind him, her hand curled possessively around his shoulders. He felt the heat of her touch beneath the soft chambray of his shirt, smelled the lavender-laced sweetness of her skin.
When had she gotten up?
She leaned toward him. A finger-thin lock of hair slipped out from behind her ear and fell against his cheek. "Would you like some more coffee?"