Heidi Vanlandingham - Lucie: Bride of Tennessee (American Mail-Order Bride 16) (11 page)

He reached underneath the table and squeezed her hand in his, the weight of his hand heavy on her thigh. She sucked in a shaky breath at his caring gesture. A tiny frisson of fear settled over her heart that he’d pull away. For the first time in so long, she didn’t feel so lost and alone—that she had someone to rely on and help her get through the trials that seemed to plague her and Alex.

“That’s what I was about to say. Sally is an excellent cook. She used to work in the Read House’s kitchen before they brought in that highfalutin Eastern chef. In my opinion, Sally’s meals were much better. She can live in your house-barn.”

Lucie frowned. “House-barn?” She glanced from mother to son. “What’s a house-barn?”

“What else do you call a barn with a house in it?” Martha laughed.

Sebastian gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’ll explain later.” He turned his body, almost facing her. “Would you like someone to help you with the meals?”

The pounding in her chest quieted and the knot that was her stomach unfurled. She hadn’t realized how worked up she’d gotten about preparing a simple meal. “Yes, please. I would very much like that.” She turned her hand around and linked her fingers through his. “I promise I’ll learn how to cook. Good meals too, so you won’t have to keep providing for Sally as well.”

“Don’t worry about that. I want you to be comfortable, and you certainly can’t be when you’re worried about preparing meals.” He held her chin between his finger and thumb and gently kissed her, his full lips soft against hers.

His handsome face was so close, his delicious woodsy scent surrounding her. She wanted to reach out and caress his cheek, run her fingers through his wavy hair. Instead, she tucked the memory of his sweet kiss away, to be brought out later and treasured. When she could pull her gaze away from his, she was met with three wide-eyed stares. A quick burn flushed across her face.

Sebastian didn’t seem to realize what he’d just done, and without missing a beat, he continued. “Talk to Sally Smith, Mother, and see if she can start tomorrow.” He smiled at the children, who still hadn’t quite recovered from witnessing the tender moment that had passed between the two adults. “Are you two ready for the delicious peach cobbler Lucie made for us?”

They glanced at each other, still wide-eyed, but nodded.

“Very good.” He rose, helping her to her feet, and motioned them toward the door with a toothy grin and a wide sweep of his arm. “Then let’s go home.”

Chapter Thirteen

“
Are
you ready to try the fried chicken again?” Sally Smith asked, her happy voice carrying through the house. Almost as short as Martha, Lucie’s new helper was even more intimidating. Her salt-and-pepper hair was braided then rolled into a tight bun on the top of her head, and her skin was a warm, tawny brown. Lucie liked the tiny crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled, which was most of the time. Sally loved to cook, which explained why she was almost as round as she was tall.

It had been seven days since Lucie had burned her arm. She was scared, but she also knew she had to try again. “All right, chicken it is.” She folded her arms across her chest. “But we have to make the hush puppies and your delicious bourbon bread pudding.”

Sally’s head bobbed up and down. “Why that’s a good idea, Miss Lucie. You best get started mixing the ingredients for the puddin’ if you want it done by suppertime.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once everything was cooking, Sally handed Lucie a tall glass of mint tea then sat down across from her at the table. “Now, Miss Lucie, you tell me somethin’. What’s between you and that fine husband of yours?”

Lucie choked on the tea, sputtering and coughing as she pounded her chest with the palm of her hand. “Ex-excuse me?”

Sally took several sips from her glass, giving her a knowing look over the rim. “You’ve a fine man in your bed, so what are you two dancin’ around each other for? You’re married, aren’t you?”

Lucie fidgeted in her chair, pretending to concentrate on drinking. She had no idea what to say to this woman. The couple of times she’d tried to talk to Martha had been impossible. Her only advice was to give it time. Give what time? Give Sebastian time to completely regret marrying her because she wasn’t knowledgeable enough to know what to do as his wife?

She gave a frustrated growl. She was so very tired of wishing for him to touch her, kiss her again. He’d come home from the hotel earlier since her accident and had even stayed with them instead of returning to work. It had been nice to sit with him in front of the fireplace after the children were tucked into bed.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Sally frowned, the creases between her brows almost black. “Don’t know what?”

Her cheeks warmed. “You know,
it.
”

Sally’s head bobbed from side to side. “No, sweetlin’, I don’t know.”

She hung her head. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t know how to be a wife—I want to be, but…we go to bed and sleep. Nothing else.” She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know how to be a wife. I want to more than anything, but Sebastian…well, I’m not sure. At times, he seems to like me. When he touches me, my face, or when he holds my hand, I feel…oh, I don’t know. Happy just doesn’t seem to describe how I feel.”

“You love him, child.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I do,” she let out on a soft wail. “So much so that my chest aches with all the love I have stored in my heart.”

Sally grinned. “Well then, you gotta make him love you back.”

“Tell me what to do, please?”

“Just what I said, sweetlin’, get him to fall in love with you. A touch here, a look there. Men like it when a pretty woman pays them some attention.”

“A touch? What kind of touch? And how am I supposed to look at him any different than I already do?”

Sally scowled at her. “Child, did your mama never teach you anything about bein’ a woman?”

“My mother passed away when I was just a little girl. My father eventually remarried, but they died when I was nine. We lived with an aunt for about seven years, but she was as old as Methuselah.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “She had a beard. I wouldn’t listen to any advice she gave me about getting a man.”

Sally let out an ear-breaking guffaw and proceeded to laugh hysterically until tears ran down her plump cheeks. Finally winding down, she breathed in deep gulps of air and wiped her face with the backs of her hands. “Oh child, that was sorely needed. Okay then, we’ve got our work cut out for us, now don’t we?”

* * *

Sebastian stood outside his house, listening to the laughter and gaiety. Lucie had made his house a home. After his disastrous first marriage, he hadn’t expected to have that again. His only expectation from her had been helping Stella—and his wife had done that without blinking an eye. She was a natural mother. Even her culinary skills were getting better.

For the first time in a long while, he had no worries, and he sent off a small prayer that it would stay that way.

He stepped inside to his daughter squealing his name and the delicious aroma of chicken and Sally’s bourbon pudding. Prying Stella’s arms from around his thighs, he picked her up and twirled her around to more squeals and giggles.

“Again!”

“Once more then we’re going to sit down so you can tell me how school was today.”

She nodded as he started the twirl. Her small body flew backward, laughing.

He dropped her with a
thwump
onto the sofa. When he sat beside her, she immediately curled up against his side, his arm wrapping around her.

Lucie walked in with a tray, balancing three glasses of tea, one tall and the other two shorter as Alex trailed behind her. She placed the drinks on the side table and handed everyone a glass. When Sebastian wrapped his hand around his, their fingers touched, and she glanced at him from underneath her long lashes, her lips almost curling into a smile.

He stared at her, unable to look away when the tip of her tongue ran over her bottom lip, the moisture glistening. He felt that touch in every part of his body. He was unsure of himself or what he should do. His body knew what it wanted. He moved, trying to ease his discomfort without her realizing what he was doing. Lucie was an enigma to him. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings for her—didn’t want to have them either. But he did. He liked her. A lot.

A few hours later, he crept into their dark bedroom, wondering if Lucie was already asleep and hoping she wasn’t. Crawling into bed, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. He slowly reached out, his fingers caressing the strands of dark brown hair at the end of her long braid. So soft. He loved her hair.

She had only been in bed maybe ten minutes, but her breathing was deep and steady, her face relaxed in sleep. “Lucie?” he whispered, but she didn’t answer. “I just wanted to say thank you, again, for all you’ve done for my daughter. And me.” He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss over her lips, but before he could move back, her eyes opened. The emotion he saw pooling in their depths staggered him.

Before he could change his mind, he sat up, cradling her cheeks in his palms, and pulled her up to him. Their lips touched again, and she sighed into his mouth. He plundered her mouth, tasting the mint powder she’d used to brush her teeth. He kissed her deeply, memorizing every detail. How she felt, tasted, her touch.

The emotional wall he’d built around his heart burst.

Her small but elegantly shaped fingers spread across his chest then traveled up and wound around his neck. He wanted more. His chest ached. Heart pounding against hers, he lowered them back to the bed, cradling her body to his. Tomorrow, he might come to his senses, but tonight, he needed to feel his body pressed against hers. Needed his body inside hers.

* * *

Lucie lay on her back, staring at the white ceiling, and hugged the quilt to her breasts. Flinging the covers back, she jumped from the bed and wrapped her mother’s lace shawl around her shoulders. Her happiness was overwhelming, flooding through her, a deluge rushing through her veins as memories of Sebastian making love to her filled her mind.

She had no idea that wifely duties entailed such wonderful sensations, and still felt his fingers feathering over the sensitive skin along her ribs, holding her breasts. Her fingertips traced her lips as she relived the fierceness of his kisses, as if he never wanted to stop.

She hugged his pillow to her chest, Sebastian’s scent in every breath she took. “Please let the day pass quickly, and that tonight will be just as magical as last night was,” she prayed.

Chapter Fourteen

B
efore Lucie knew it, the day had sped by and the children were home from school. While supper was cooking, Lucie sat with them in the front room working math problems and reading about the Revolutionary War. As Stella slowly read her primer, Alex got up and added another log to the fire, which crackled and popped when he dropped it onto the burning husks of what remained of the blackened logs.

Her insides were rolled as tight as a ball of string, and her heartbeat raced at the thought of Sebastian coming home. She wasn’t sure how to react, and didn’t want him to think she was silly. But after last night…well, she was different. No longer a young girl, she felt more like a woman. When she thought of him, it was as if her heart was bursting with so much love.

Glancing up at the mantel clock, softly ticking above the fire, she frowned. Sebastian was usually home by now. Where was he?

“Lucie, can we eat soon? I’m starvin’!” As soon as her brother voiced the words, his stomach let out a loud growl. Stella leaned over her reader in a fit of giggles.

“I can hear that.” She laughed and stood. “Okay then. Put your homework in your rooms then wash your hands. You can set the table while I get the food ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were all sitting at the table, enjoying the moist roast and buttered yams she had baked all by herself. She’d wanted to try to do it without Sally’s help, so she’d given her the day off to spend it however she wanted.

Stella swallowed her bite and picked up her small glass of tea with two hands. Setting it down, she cut another piece of meat and stabbed it with the tines of her fork. “Lucie, where’s papa?”

She glanced at the mantel clock again, which she could see from where she sat, and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe he had a meeting he forgot to tell us about?”

“Or maybe Grandma Martha made him stay and eat with her. She likes eating supper with papa. I like eating at the hotel too, but you’re food is just as good.”

Lucie smiled. “Thank you!” She leaned forward and whispered, “I am getting better aren’t I?”

Stella answered with a laugh, the sound filling the empty house and easing some of her worry.

Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, she tucked her brother into bed, pulling the covers up underneath his chin, and kissed his forehead.

Alex immediately rolled over onto his side and let out a breathy, ‘Night, sissy. I love you.”

She laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I love you too. Sweet dreams.” After closing his door, she leaned her back against the wood for support as she stared into Stella’s softly lit room. With a deep breath, she forced her feet to move forward.

Stella had already climbed into bed but was sitting against the headboard, staring down at her china doll. She glanced up when Lucie sat on the edge of the bed.

“Papa’s never not tucked me in.”

Smiling sadly, Lucie smoothed the doll’s messy hair, tucking the wayward spirals back into place. “I know.”

“Is he still with Grandma Martha?”

“I don’t know where he is, sweetie. But I know that if he couldn’t be here to tuck you in for the night, it’s because something very important came up. Your father would never miss kissing you goodnight.” She stood and raised the pretty floral quilt so Stella could slide underneath. Tucking the doll into the girl’s embrace, she wrapped the cover around her shoulders, pushing the material between the mattress and her small body.

“There, all tucked in, and as my mother used to say, ‘As snug as a bug in a rug.’”

Stella giggled. “I’m not a bug!”

Her eyes widened. “Well, to a large whale, you look like a bug.”

“You’re silly, Lucie.” Stella scrambled out from underneath the covers and threw her arms around Lucie’s shoulders. “But I like you so much!” she whispered.

She held her tight, loving the feeling of her small arms wrapped around her neck. “I like you very much too, sweetie.” She gave her a quick squeeze then re-tucked her into bed and lowered the wick in the lamp until the dim yellow light disappeared. Leaning down, she kissed Stella’s soft cheek and whispered, “Goodnight, Stella.”

“Night, Lucie.”

She lay in bed, staring at the shadow-covered ceiling and wondered what she’d done wrong. When they’d married, Sebastian had insisted nothing would happen between them. But it had, and she couldn’t go back to the way it had been before. When he’d shown her what it felt like to be cherished, maybe even loved; she had crossed a threshold, and the door to her youth had closed behind her. She didn’t want to live her life alone. She wanted her days filled with love and laughter with her family.

The night darkened and the moon cast a pale whiteness that covered the bed as she waited for Sebastian. Her tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and dropped onto the white pillow beneath her head.

He isn’t coming home.

* * *

Black brows drawn together in a frown, Sally set a small bowl of sugared grits in front of Lucie and planted her fists against her plump hips.

“I’m not really hungry this morning, Sally.” Lucie kept her eyes lowered, trying not to slump down in her chair even more than she already was. “Maybe just coffee, please?” She pushed the bowl toward the center of the table. “You can eat mine if you’d like.” She heard the soft padding of Sally’s worn leather soles as she shuffled into the kitchen for the coffee.

Cradling the warm porcelain between her chilled palms, she breathed in the wonderful aroma, but she just couldn’t shake the sadness clinging to her body.

“Okay child, what’s wrong with you this morning? The sun’s a shinin’ bright and there’s even a light snow falling, coverin’ the ground with a white winter blanket.”

She continued to stare at the creamy beige liquid, unsure of what to say. Sally leaned forward and pressed again, “Lucie? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“He never came home.” She raised her tear-filled gaze. “Sebastian never came home last night.”

“Oh, child, there has to be a good reason.”

“That’s what I told Stella, but lying alone in bed, watching the hours pass, I knew it was a lie. He never wanted to be married.” She rubbed her fist over her aching chest, her throat burning as she fought back the tears. “Sally, he doesn’t want to be married to me.”

She burst into tears, sobbing as if her heart would break as Sally moved around the table. Pulling her into her comforting embrace, Sally patted her back and crooned, telling her that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, but Lucie didn’t believe her.

With more strength than she knew she had, she stopped crying and stepped away from the large woman’s grasp and swiped her palms across her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she shoved her sadness into the recesses of her heart and straightened her shoulders. “I’m going to be fine. This will pass, I just have to be strong. Wallowing in self-pity will do me no good, nor will it help the children.” She stomped into the kitchen and pulled out her mother’s charred cookbook, the only thing she’d managed to save after the fire, and laid it on the counter.

Reaching for the large mixing bowl underneath the cabinet, she banged them against the wooden countertop as she set them down. “When I was sad as a child, my mother always baked, so that’s what I’m going to do too. Tonight, we’re going to have cherry pie for dessert and something a little extra for you and me beforehand.” She gave Sally a chagrined look. “With your help, of course.”

After the ingredients were mixed and two pieces of dough rolled out, she poured in the cherries and spices on top of one piece of crust already placed in the bottom of the pie dish. After laying the second piece on top, she fluted the edges of both layers together. Cutting four small slits in the crust, she placed it in the oven.

While the pie baked, they rolled out remaining dough on another pie plate then Lucie liberally sprinkled it with sugar and cinnamon and placed it on the top shelf of the oven. Ten minutes later, the treat was done.

Biting into the sweet pastry, the sweetened cinnamon burst over her tongue as Lucie chewed. “My stepmother used to make this for us as a special treat after school. No pie, just this. She was a good woman—almost as wonderful as my own mother was.”

Sally stared at the piece in her hand. “Truly delicious. What happened to them? Your parents?”

Lucie took another bite, chewing slowly before answering. “My mother got sick—consumption. She died in so much pain. All we could do was watch. My father and stepmother died when our house caught fire. Thankfully, Alex and I were at the library when it happened.”

“Believe it or not, my mama’s still alive and kickin’ back home—”

“Lucie! Lucie!” Alex screamed as he ran into the house with a wild, wide-eyed expression. He pulled her away from the table, barely giving her time to get her feet underneath her. “You have to help her! Stella’s trapped in the basement of a house near the school!”

She grabbed hold of his shoulders. “Calm down and tell me what happened.”

He took several deep breaths and laid his hands over hers, gripping them tightly. “We were walking home. Teacher got sick and there was no one to teach us, so they let us go home early. Stella saw a kitten going into the basement through one of the broken windows. When the wailing started, she just knew it was being killed, so she ran over and crawled into through the window too. That’s when there was a loud rumbling then a bunch of dust billowed out. I called for Stella but she didn’t answer. I ran here to get you.” A tear trickled down his cheek. “Sissy, there was so much dust…”

She could feel the clamminess of her brother’s palms on top of her hands as they trembled. His whole body shook. She leaned closer to his face, her gaze boring into his. “You said this house was near the school?” She took a deep breath. “Alex, is the house still standing?”

“As far as I could tell. It’s the house with the falling-down porch.”

“The one with no windows?”

“Yes.” He threw his arms around her neck, almost strangling her. “I’m frightened, sissy. What if—”

She pulled him away, holding him at arm’s length. “No! You can’t think like that, Alex. Stella will be fine. She
has
to be fine. I need you to be braver than you ever have. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes filled with fear.

“Good. I need you to run as fast as you can to the hotel. Get Sebastian and take him to the house.” She grabbed her coat from the peg by the door and shoved her arms though the sleeves, and began to button it up. 

“What are you doing, Lucie?” Sally demanded.

“I’m going to find Stella. She’s going to be terrified all by herself.” She opened the door, her brother at her heels, and gave him a quick kiss on top of his head. “Run, Alex. As fast as you can. Run!”

Grabbing the lantern hanging on the peg rack by the front door, she ran as fast as she could to the two-story house. Surprisingly, most of the house was still standing. From the street, she could see where the back corner had dropped, tilting inward at an awkward angle. Fighting back her terror as she crawled through the small basement window, and fell several feet to the dirt floor below. She lay there a moment, staring up at the planked ceiling above her. Trying to catch her breath, she noticed a sharp stinging along her arm.

She felt along her coat and winced when her fingers touched the cut. She wiped her bloody fingertips on her dress, wishing she’d taken a few seconds to kick out the broken window glass.  All she could think about, though, was finding Stella.

Slowly, she rose on unsteady legs. Tilting sideways, she pressed her hand against the wall as she looked around the basement. The space smelled old and musty, probably from the flood waters that had almost destroyed this part of Chattanooga. She slowly moved toward the back of the basement, not liking how the floor above dipped down near the middle. She walked faster. “Stella!” Her voice sounded airy and thin in the darkness.

“Lucie! I’m back here!”

“I’m coming!” She hurried forward, trying not to trip over the piles of dirt covering the floor. “I’m almost there, Stella. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Lucie, I’m scared.”

To her ears, Stella sounded so small. She made her way to the back of the basement and found herself staring at a pile of debris from the floor above, which blocked the doorway. She set the lantern down and began pulling away the broken floorboards until she could crawl through. Reaching down, she grabbed the dim lantern and crawled into the room.

“Lucie?”

Stella stood in the middle of the room. She was covered in dirt and her eyes were huge. Lucie could see the dark streaks on her pale cheeks from tears and fear in Stella’s wide eyes. “Oh Stella.” She fell to her scraped knees, uncaring of the pain, and pulled the little girl’s quivering body against her and held her tight. “I’m here, honey. You’re going to be okay.” She ran her hands over tangled curls, knowing she was reassuring herself, not just Stella. “How about we get out of here?”

“I can’t find the kitten! We can’t leave her here—she’ll die!” the little girl wailed.

There was an ominous
creak
from above then the house groaned.  “Honey, we need to hurry!”