Carolyn Davidson – Redemption (страница 7)

And wasn’t that the truth? She’d heard the murmurs behind her in the store yesterday, and noted the sidelong glances of ladies as she passed them on the sidewalk. It could not be helped, she decided. The welfare of a child was more important than any gossiping females.

Jake turned his chair and rolled it toward the parlor, Jason scampering ahead of him, and Alicia followed in their wake. The boy was industriously picking up an assortment of objects from the couch when she stepped into the room, and he dropped them with a total lack of ceremony onto the floor in one corner.

Jake looked her way and for a moment they seemed to be in tune, both aware of Jason’s meager attempts at straightening up the room.

“Have a seat, ma’am,” Jason told her, waving at the couch, where an unoccupied cushion awaited her. Even as she watched, his eyes filled with hesitant light, as if he feared her mission might prove to be not to his liking. “I haven’t done anything bad this week, have I?” he asked.

She shook her head and smiled, sensing that he’d feared that very thing. “No, you’ve been an exemplary student for the past couple of days, Jason. I appreciated the papers you turned in to me. They’ll help your grades enormously.”

“What’s exemplary?” he asked with a frown.

“It’s a word we’re going to use in our spelling lesson on Monday,” she told him. “If you know the meaning by then, you’ll receive extra credit.”

She looked at Jake McPherson then, wondering if he saw the boy as she did. If he noticed the ragtag appearance of the child, or if he just didn’t care. If he took note of the extraordinary intelligence that gleamed from his blue eyes when they weren’t dulled with unhappiness. Then she steeled herself, putting her plan in motion.

“I received a visit from your brother,” she announced tentatively. “He told me you were looking for someone to help out with Jason. A woman who would see to him choosing new clothing at the general store, maybe arrange for a haircut, or whatever else he needs.”

And for the life of me, I don’t know why I volunteered for the job.

“Cord told you that?” The subdued tone of Jake’s voice was a cover for anger. She could see it in the flush that touched his cheekbones, the flaring of his nostrils and the glare of fury that shone from his eyes. He wouldn’t be smiling today.

“Well,” she began, hedging a bit. “He didn’t say it in so many words. Just suggested that you might be amenable to accepting my help.”

The man looked her over then as if he saw her as a slab of meat in the butcher shop on Main Street. Disdain marked his face, disapproval glittered from his eyes. She felt the brunt of both as if a sharp knife had stabbed her, slicing her good intentions to ribbons. She was no raving beauty—her own mother had told her that more than once—but she was presentable.

“And you think you qualify as an expert when it comes to young boys?” Jake asked with a cynical smirk. “How many children do you have, Miss Merriweather?”

She dropped her gaze to her lap, noting that her fingers were twisting together in an agony of embarrassment. She lifted her chin and met his eyes head-on. “None, of course. As you very well know. But I’ve worked with children for almost ten years, Mr. McPherson. I’d say I have a fair amount of experience.”

“Enough to take on the raising of my son?” he asked.

“I’m not asking for that position,” she told him forcefully. “I have no intention of interfering with the job you’re doing. I only thought to lend a hand.”

“You don’t have enough to keep you busy at that schoolhouse?” he asked sharply. “You need to spend your leisure time offering to tend to your pupils in lieu of finding a husband and having your own crop of children to raise?”

“The chances are very slight of my finding a husband and having a family of my own, sir,” she managed to say with a reasonable amount of clarity. “I’m sure you don’t mean to be insulting, but your remarks are venturing in that direction.”

Jake tilted his head and looked at her as if she were a specimen under a microscope and he was trying to distinguish her species. “Do you always talk that way, Miss Merriweather, or is it just with me that you use such highfalutin language?”

She bit at her lip. “I speak the way I was taught to speak,” she told him. “My parents were educators and raised me to be a schoolteacher. I had a good education in preparation for my life’s work.”

“Didn’t your mother ever consider the idea of you getting married and having that family we spoke of?” He leaned back in his chair and watched her closely, deciding that the flush she wore made her look almost…pretty. He cleared his throat and looked down. Damn, sharp tongue and all, she was more appealing than he’d thought.

Alicia felt heat climb her cheeks, knew she was blushing furiously and yet refused to look away from the man. “I think it’s an insult for you to even suggest such a thing,” she announced.

His gaze found her again. “You’re a woman, aren’t you?” His eyebrow twitched, and his mouth followed suit, as if he mocked her. Not quite a smile, but almost.

“A woman, yes. But perhaps not the sort of female who appeals to men who are looking for a girl to marry.”

“What sort of female are you?”

As if he cared, she thought. The man was being downright rude, perhaps wishing he could push her from this room, out the front door and away from his house merely by his behavior. She would not allow it. Not until she’d had her say. If he refused her help, so much the better, as far as she was concerned at this very moment.

“What sort of female am I? I’m a schoolteacher-sort, Mr. McPherson. I’ve never planned on marriage. At my age, it’s out of the question, anyway.”

“How old are you?”

Rude. The man was rude beyond belief! “How old are you?” she countered smugly.

“Thirty-nine,” he said. “Not that that has any bearing on the subject.”

He looked at her expectantly. “Your age, Miss Merriweather?”

None of your business. The words were alive in her mind, but refused to make their way to her lips. Instead, she found herself obediently blurting out the truth. “Thirty. I’m thirty years old,” she said firmly. “On the shelf, I suppose it’s called.”

“Surely there’s been some farmer in need of a woman, or a parson looking for a helpmate,” he said, emphasizing the words that he obviously thought described her best.

“Apparently not,” she said, refusing to rise to his bait. “Had such a man offered for me, I doubt I’d have accepted. My future does not lie in raising a brood of children whose mother had the good sense to desert them, and leaving myself open to being used as a slave by their father.”

“Not all children left alone have been deserted by their mothers,” Jake said harshly. “On occasion, such women are stricken by illness, and they’ve been known to die, leaving their households without a woman’s touch.”

Alicia felt pain strike her, the aching knowledge that she’d hurt another person with no reasonable excuse. She’d spoken out of turn because of her anger with this man.

“I apologize, Mr. McPherson,” she said quietly, unable to look into his face but unwilling to remain silent when an apology was in order.

“I’m not sure why you think I merit such a thing,” he answered. “It seems we strike sparks from one another, Miss Merriweather. I was equally at fault.”

She looked up at him then, shocked by his words, stunned by the reasonable tone of voice he used. His face had lost just a bit of its stony demeanor; his eyes were narrowed as he looked her over. The change was quite disarming.

CHAPTER THREE

THE WOMAN HAD DUG DEEPLY beneath his skin. He’d been angry for three solid years, yet the emotion he’d bent in her direction today had made his fury during that time seem as nothing. Still, she’d tossed his anger back at him, as if she were untouched by his words. As a result he’d been unkind and insulting, to use her own description of his remarks.

Alicia Merriweather rubbed him the wrong way, and yet he felt a sense of anticipation as he thought of her next visit. Perhaps she would not return, and at that notion, he rued his bad temper.

Never in Jake’s life had he been so abrupt. Except for the early days, before the time when Rena had come back to him—those days when he’d made Cord’s new bride the target of his anger, reducing her life to a living hell for a matter of long weeks.

He thought of his brother’s wife, of the changes she’d made to his life, and then his mind compared her to the woman who had so recently left his home. Rachel was sweet, caring and petite, a woman who inspired a man to watch over her, as did Cord. Yet she was feisty, as Jake had reason to know.

On the other hand, he’d seldom seen so capable a woman as Alicia Merriweather. She was tall, big boned, and bore her weight well. He’d had a second look today. The dress she’d worn had fit somewhat better than the one she’d had on the last time she’d been here. It wasn’t too difficult to acknowledge the fact that there was, indeed, a waistline beneath its enveloping folds. Her hands were capable, her nails short, her fingers long and tapered. Her hair was nondescript in color. Brown was as close as he could come to describing it. Yet he wondered if it wouldn’t gleam with red undertones in the sunlight.