In a Stranger's Arms (28 page)

The warmth in his voice made Caddie’s throat tighten. She would have given every piece of the Marsh silver if he’d spoken like that to her this morning. Manning Forbes might not love her enough to make her his wife in more than name, but he loved her children as much as any father could.

Why couldn’t she be happy and satisfied with that, rather than jealous of her own young’uns?

“Once your behavior is entirely correct, Varina Marsh, then you can go ahead and criticize others. Now, run along and play with your brother like a good girl.”

“I don’t know where he got off to.” Varina shrugged. “We heard you hollering, then Tem and Sergeant runned off. I think he was crying—old baby!”

Manning turned to Caddie, a look of shame and concern blazoned on his face. “I’ll go look for him.”

“In a minute. Varina, you go see if Dora needs a hand bringing in the wash.”

“Chores?” Varina rolled her eyes. Then, seeing her mother’s warning look, she trudged off toward the kitchen.

As her forceful little footsteps faded in the distance, Manning remained crouched by the door, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped. “Go ahead and say what you’re thinking.”

He sounded so... defeated. Caddie didn’t dare say what she was thinking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do.” He sighed, and in spite of everything, she ached to put her arms around him.

“You’re dying to say, ‘Now see what you’ve done.’ Go ahead and spit it out.”

The lye soap began to sting Caddie’s hands. The stuff was as caustic as anger.

“I have no intention of saying anything of the sort.” She gentled her voice, as he had done to reassure Varina. “It takes two to make a fight. You’re no more to blame than I am, probably less. I know you meant well inviting Lon and... all. It’s just...” She couldn’t tell him.

Manning drew his own conclusions. “I know.” He struggled to his feet as if a heavy pack was strapped to his back. “This is your house. I should have let you do the inviting.”

It sounded so petty. Better he should think her petty than guess the truth and feel sorry for her. Caddie could abide anything but that.

“What do you want me to do?” Manning asked. “Tell Lon the invitation’s withdrawn? Cancel the barbecue?”

On no account would she let the threat of Lydene’s presence force her to cancel this gathering. Until that moment Caddie hadn’t realized how much she was looking forward to it. This would be a welcome chance to pretend, for a few sweet hours, that they were back in the easy, prosperous days before the war.

But how could she get Manning to retract his invitation without making him look like a henpecked fool, reinforcing the notion that he was little better than a lodger at Sabbath Hollow, working for his keep?

“What’s done is done.” Caddie rose from her knees, wiping her smarting hands on her apron. “We might as well put the best face we can on it. Maybe if Lon shows up here and partakes of our hospitality, he’ll have to behave better toward us. Otherwise the neighbors will think worse of him than they do already.”

Manning might not understand why, but he seemed to sense how hard a decision this had been for her. He smiled at her with something like fondness glowing in his eyes. “Thank you, Caddie. I hope you’re right. From now on I promise I’ll ask your leave before I invite anyone into your house.”

“
Our
house.”

For some reason, Manning’s smile faltered. “I’d better go find Tem.”

He headed off.

Caddie went over and opened the windows to let the lye fumes escape. In some strange way, she felt as though a window had been opened in her heart just now, letting in a warm, clover-scented breeze. They’d had words, more heated than any she’d ever exchanged with Del, and yet she felt good about the compromise they’d reached, instead of seething with bitterness.

Maybe if she could forget the night they’d spent together and stop herself yearning for him, she and Manning might manage a halfway decent marriage, after all.

She was a better woman than he deserved, but that went without saying.

In his search for Templeton, some instinct beckoned Manning toward the creek. Whenever he felt low or troubled, the sound of water never failed to soothe and revitalize him. Last night, it had been the sensual music of the rain drumming on the roof and windows of Sabbath Hollow, as much as Doc Mercer’s whiskey, that had made his desire for Caddie flood its banks and burst the dam he’d built to contain it.

He’d pushed her away this morning, to ease his guilt. That might also have been the reason he’d invited Lon to the barbecue, if he was honest with himself. Both had provoked Caddie’s anger, but beneath that, he’d sensed her hurt, and it tore at him.

As Caddie had said, some things couldn’t be forgiven. Killing her first husband would surely be at the top of that list.

Manning shied away from that painful thought the way he’d have avoided trying to lift a heavy object with his burned hands.

“Tem,” he called. “Templeton Marsh, it’ll soon be time for supper, Son.”

The boy gave no sound or movement to betray his whereabouts, but the dog had no scruples about calling attention to both of them. It came bounding through the underbrush toward Manning, barking a greeting, tail beating back and forth against the leaves. Once confident of having caught his attention, Sergeant wheeled about and made for Tem with the unerring precision of a well-aimed bullet.

As Manning had suspected, the boy sat on the creek bank, skinny arms wrapped around equally skinny legs. As the dog romped around him, saluting Manning’s arrival with more loud barks, Tem continued to stare out at the water, ignoring them both.

“Good boy, Sarge.” Patting the dog as best he could with his bandaged hand, Manning sank down beside the boy on grass still a little damp from last night’s rain.

He addressed his next words to Tem. “Stick close to Sergeant, here, and you’ll never have to worry about getting lost. Maybe in the fall, you and me can go hunting. Something tells me this fellow could track and flush game like nobody’s business.”

Tem didn’t reply or give any sign he’d even heard. His silence implied that the dog was no asset when his master just wanted to hide and be alone.

“This is a nice spot.” Manning looked around, slowly nodding his head in approval. “When I was your age, I used to have a place something like this where I’d go.”

It wasn’t easy for him to talk about, but he sensed the boy needed to hear it. “You know... when I was troubled about something. Listening to the water always made me feel better. Sometimes I’d talk to the water, too. Tell it what was bothering me. Maybe it couldn’t really hear me or do anything to help, but just putting my bad feelings into words and getting them outside of me... Probably sounds foolish to you, doesn’t it?”

By gradual, hesitant degrees, Tem’s face turned toward him. Manning could see that Varina was right. The boy had been crying.

It pained Manning’s heart in a different way, and somehow deeper than any hurt on his own account. Those were his and he could bear them. But he ached to relieve Tem’s hurts, knowing full well he couldn’t.

He held the child’s anguished gaze, saying nothing, asking nothing. Like the flowing water, just being there to receive whatever Tem was ready to disclose.

“How come you and my ma got married if you don’t like each other?”

If a cannonball had come whistling out of the heavens and blown apart the stretch of creek bank where they sat, Manning’s composure could not have been so thoroughly shaken. A hundred possible answers to Tem’s question exploded in his thoughts, none of which he dared utter.

Perhaps if Tem had been ten years older, Manning could have said he liked Caddie far too much for his good, or hers, and the young man might have understood. No way on earth could he look into the dear, anxious face of a boy he’d come to love like a son, and tell him the truth. That he’d put a bullet into Tem’s real pa, then had sworn a vow to look after Del Marsh’s family.

Manning sighed. “Templeton, you’re a big boy, so I’m not going to give you a baby’s answer. I know at your age, lots of things seem simple. A man loves a lady, so he marries her. When you get older, you’ll understand it can be way more complicated than that. Your ma’s a fine lady and I’ve got all the... respect in the world for her.”

His mouth had a tough time forming those words, as if it wanted to say something else altogether. Manning wasn’t sure what, nor did he dare to think about it too closely.

“Is there some other gal you like better?” the boy demanded.

“No!” Manning almost wished there was. Why had his fool heart taken a notion to the one woman he’d the least right to? “No, Tem. It’s just... well, you don’t want your ma forgetting your pa, do you? Some folks aren’t lucky enough to find love once in this life, let alone twice. But that doesn’t mean they should do without the help of a husband or wife for the rest of their lives. Especially if they have children to raise.”

Tem looked grave and thoughtful—even more than he usually did. “My ma and pa didn’t fight like you and her do.”

Of course they hadn’t. Caddie and Delbert Marsh would have had a whole world in common. Del wouldn’t have grated on her aristocratic sensibilities like sandpaper on fine-grained hardwood. When Del roused her considerable passion, he’d have been entitled to satisfy Caddie and himself.

Manning opened his mouth to apologize for what Tem had overheard.

The boy’s sensitive brow furrowed deeper, as if digging for long-buried memories, then sifting to make sense of them. “They didn’t fight, but I don’t think they loved each other the way you said, either.”

“I see.” He didn’t. Manning struggled to digest Tem’s words.

“It’s
my
fault you and my ma get cross with each other.” The words exploded out of Tem like something rotten left in a corked jug to ferment. “If it wasn’t for me, maybe you’d get to like each other.”

Even before the child finished speaking, Manning started to shake his head. “No, Tem. No. You’ve got to believe me. One of the few things your ma and I agree on is how much we care about you and Varina, and what fine young’uns you are.”

For reasons Manning could not guess, his intended reassurance backfired. Tem buried his head in the nest of his arm and knees and commenced to sob his tender young heart out.

Words heaved out with his tears. “I... told Mama... I didn’t find that treasure. That’s when... she went in your room.”

The dog whimpered and tried to lick his master’s face.

Manning winced. He never should have made the boy an unwitting confederate in his deception. No wonder Caddie had been driven to snooping through his papers. “It’s all right, Son. Your ma and I worked all that out... sort of...”

“’Cause you had to run off on account of the fire.”

True enough. Manning wasn’t sure where their confrontation might have led if the fire hadn’t interrupted. It had given him and Caddie a chance to back away from their highly charged feelings and each to look at the situation from the other’s point of view. In spite of his burns and the fear of losing what he’d worked so hard to build, Manning couldn’t say he was sorry the fire had started when it did.

Maybe that’s why he felt more forgiving toward Lon than Caddie did.

“I started that fire.”

The words could only have come from Templeton, but Manning still found himself peering around for another source. Surely the boy couldn’t mean it?

“I didn’t aim for it to get so big.” Tem sniffled. “I only wanted to make some smoke so you and Mama would quit fighting and come see.”

“Oh, Tem.” Manning’s insides quivered like cold jelly to think what might have happened. “Thank God you weren’t hurt!”

Shoving the dog out of the way, he gathered the child in his arms. How could he live with himself knowing his actions had driven the boy into danger?

Tem burrowed into Manning’s embrace, soaking his shirt with tears. Finally, when the child had cried himself out, he asked in a quiet, hesitant voice, “Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Sure am.” As much as he could with his bandaged hands, Manning ruffled the boy’s hair. He tried to keep any sharpness out of his voice, white still impressing on the boy what a serious matter this was, “You could have been hurt, Tem. Maybe killed. We could have lost the mill. I want you to promise me you won’t set any more fires.”

Tem’s head thumped vigorously against his chest. “No, sir. I sure won’t.”

“Then I guess we can let it go at that. I know how hard it must have been for you to tell your ma the things you did, and to tell me about the fire. It’s brave to do things we’re scared of when we know they’re right. I’m real proud of you for that much, Tem.”

If he had half this little fellow’s courage, he’d tell Caddie the truth about Del’s death. Manning tried to justify himself by asking if that
would
be the right thing for her and the children. Perhaps if Del hadn’t been a model husband, as Tem implied, Manning could redeem himself by doing his best to make her happy.

Even if it afforded him the kind of pleasure he ill deserved.