Jane Bonander (25 page)

Julia and Mattie turned to leave, but Josette grabbed Julia’s hand.

“Stay with me a minute, please?”

The plea came as such a surprise, Julia could only nod.

After Mattie had gone, Julia sat down on the bed. Her sister’s swollen, tearstained face tugged at something inside her.

“Julia, I’m so scared,” Josette admitted, her lower lip trembling.

Julia stroked her sister’s arm. “I’m sure you are, Josie, but trying to get rid of the baby is no solution. Better to have it come out naturally.”

Josette expelled a watery sigh. “It’s not just that. There’s something wrong; I can tell.” She lifted her skirt, exposing her ankles. “Look at them, Julia. They didn’t swell like that the last time.”

Julia nodded in agreement, and realized this was the first actual conversation they’d had in years. Josette was truly frightened.

“You’d better stay off your feet.” Julia expected she would anyway.

“But there’s nothing to
do.
And when I just lie here, I start to think, and I
hate
it, Julia.”

Julia swallowed a smile. Of course she did, poor Josie. She’d never really gotten the hang of it.

“I suppose Mattie could teach you to knit, but I don’t think she’d trust you with the needles.”

Josette blushed. “I noticed you’re making a quilt. Could I help you stitch the squares together?”

It was the first time in Julia’s memory that Josette had ever offered to do anything. She couldn’t turn her down. “Of course. I’ll get things together for you.”

“Do you miss Mr. McCloud, Julia?”

Caution made Julia hesitate. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I do,” Josette said on a sigh. “He was such a fun person, wasn’t he?”

Julia straightened the bedding, then fluffed her sister’s pillow. “Yes. He was.”

Julia missed him so much. Often at night she would sit bolt upright in bed, her heart hammering her ribs as the nightmare returned to haunt her. The nightmare of him calling to her from some deep, dark place from which he couldn’t get free. When morning came, she would think about it and wonder why she would dream of McCloud’s fears when she had so many of her own.

And now, as she stared into her sister’s pitiful face, she admitted to herself that Josette could very well be carrying McCloud’s baby, but even if she was, there was nothing she could do about it. What was done, was done. Julia loved McCloud with a desperation that bordered on quiet panic, and if he’d lain with her sister those many months ago, she would have to learn to live with it.

Her stomach churned, and she continued to rub it, binding herself forever to the child growing in her womb. Yes, she’d accept Josette’s baby if it were McCloud’s, and would love it as if it were her own. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have trouble getting used to the idea.

W
olf sat in front of the large, stone fireplace. The fire blazed, hypnotizing him. His brother’s Swedish housekeeper had treated him like a long-lost son, and Wolf had felt at home, in spite of the grand surroundings. He missed Julia, wished she were here to share this time with him.

“You look lost in a world of your own.” Tristan took the seat across from him and handed him a snifter of brandy.

Wolf accepted the warm glass, swirling it before bringing it to his lips. “I was thinking about my wife.”

Tristan’s mouth curved into a dry smile. “Wife. That’s a foreign word to me.”

“It was to me, too. I’d never considered myself the type of man to have a wife, much less be faithful to her. I’ve lived a damned hard life. Thought I’d drink myself to death or die in a whore’s bed.” He laughed. “Maybe both, if I was lucky.”

“You said she had a child. How do you feel about that.”

Wolf saw his reflection in the amber liquid at the bottom of his glass. Outside he was the same. Inside, he’d changed so much he hardly recognized himself. “When I learned what had happened to us, I decided I’d never refuse to care for an unwanted child, no matter whose it was.”

He’d filled his brother in on their mother and half brother over dinner. Tristan had been interested, but admitted that he hadn’t felt the same urgency to find his mother. Unlike Wolf, he hadn’t honed the sixth sense they shared. He’d known it was there; he shared his twin’s intuition, certain there was a part of himself missing, but didn’t take the time to delve into it. But the minute Wolf had ridden up, Tristan had admitted he felt gooseflesh.

Tristan grimaced. “You’re way too noble.”

“Hell, I’m not noble. What you do, caring for a grown woman with the mind of a child, is an honorable thing, Tris.”

Tristan sipped his brandy. “I’ve never known anything else. Besides, Emily was more of a mother to me than my own.” He shot Wolf an embarrassed smile. “You know what I mean.”

“She’s very sweet.” It was unusual to watch a woman who was in her middle thirties act like a child not yet in her teens. There was an attachment between them that Wolf didn’t understand, but he sensed Emily was jealous of anyone who encroached on her brother’s time. Tristan had hired a nurse recently, but Wolf didn’t give her much of a future with them, for she appeared to have little patience with Emily.

“We confused the hell out of her, but she loved it.”

They laughed together.

“So, tell me about this wife of yours,” Tristan said.

“Julia.” The sound of her name, along with the brandy, made Wolf feel warm inside. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Tristan shifted in his chair. “Sounds serious.”

One corner of Wolf’s mouth lifted. “That’s what marriage is, brother. Serious.”

“You couldn’t prove it by me. I was engaged once, but …” Tristan shrugged, draining his glass.

“I sense more behind it than that.”

His brother stared into the fire, his empty snifter dangling from his fingers. “I thought so, too. A funny thing happens to rich, well-bred white women when they get around a breed. You ever notice that?”

Wolf mentally counted the white women, well-bred and not, whom he bedded. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“We’re a stud service, that’s all.”

“You’ve had a different life from mine. There weren’t too many well-bred women of any color where I grew up.”

“I found mine in New York. Can’t say any of them were memorable, including my ex-fiancee.”

Wolf heard the bitterness in his brother’s voice. “I got lucky with Julia. I still don’t think I deserve her, but I’m working on it.”

“Is she pretty?”

“She’s beautiful. Smart. Witty. Funny. Loving. Giving. Compassionate. Passionate.”

Tristan chuckled. He rose and placed his empty snifter on the mantel. “None of those attributes describe what she looks like, brother.”

Julia’s sweet face floated before him. “No, but they all describe what she is.” He was leaving in the morning, anxious to get home. Anxious to resume his marriage. His life.

Julia stretched and rubbed the small of her back. Washing windows was one of her least hated chores, for at least she could be outside. Meredith sat on the porch, sipping a cup of tea. She’d stopped on her way from the jail, and Julia had vowed to be indifferent to her, but couldn’t. Meredith had become pathetic. Impeccably groomed and dressed in the past, she was now untidy, as if the mere act of doing her hair was a chore. Julia felt sorry for her in spite of what she’d done.

“I keep asking myself if I would have lived my life differently if I’d known the outcome.”

Julia dropped into a chair beside her. “What’s your answer?”

Meredith shook her head. “I don’t know.” She gave Julia a wan smile. “You must think I’m terrible, considering what I’ve done.”

Julia sighed. “I don’t understand, Meredith. I couldn’t abandon a child, much less tell someone else to kill it for me.” She couldn’t forgive Meredith for that.

“It’s no excuse, Julia, but I was young. Very young and very wild.” Her hands shook as she took a sip of tea. She put the cup on her knee and wrapped her hands around it.

“Part of the reason we came west was because of me,” she admitted, her voice filled with shame. “My papa said it would tame me. He was ashamed of how I acted. In the eyes of his friends, he was a failure because of me.” She smirked, the wrinkles around her mouth accentuating her age. “No good, little Italian girl would act so brazen, he would say, his voice filled with quiet shame. I loved my father, but I didn’t care. It was the only way to get his attention.”

She studied her tea. “Now, it pains me to say it, but I see similarities in my relationship with Serge. I’m responsible for his behavior, but … am I also responsible for, you know, the way he is? The choices he’s made?”

At the mention of Serge’s sexual preference, Julia thawed, for she wondered if anything could be harder for a parent to accept than that. “I don’t know. But if it’s any consolation, I don’t think Serge did it to hurt you. I can’t imagine why anyone would … be that way by choice.”

Meredith’s eyes were filled with cautious hope. “You don’t think so?”

“McCloud had never met Serge before, yet he knew. Lord, Meredith, I’m one of the most innocent women in the world, but even
I
knew that Serge was different, even if I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that singled him out.”

Meredith took a shuddering breath. “I’ve made a mess of my life. I don’t confess this to many people, but I wasn’t raped by that savage.”

Julia’s hand went to her chest. “What happened?”

“I went with him of my own free will. Your husband is the spitting image of him.” She made a croaking sound, one that Julia assumed was supposed to be a laugh.

“I was sure I couldn’t conjure up an image of him in my mind. Then your husband turned up at my house. Lord, the past roared at me with the speed of a bullet.” She rubbed her temples. “I was certain I’d put it all behind me, and there he was, big as life and twice as dangerous to everything I’d worked so hard for, and to everything I’d tried so hard to forget.”

There was nothing to say. “You tried to kill him,” Julia reminded her.

“No. I didn’t want him dead, I—”

“Why not?” Julia pushed. “You wanted him dead when he was just a baby and had done nothing. I can’t believe you didn’t want him dead after he showed up, threatening everything you’d worked for.”

Meredith put her cup on the floor. “Maybe I did. You don’t understand, Julia. Once things started going wrong for me, I couldn’t stop them. Any means to get what I wanted seemed all right.”

Julia felt a hitch in her throat. “Even the death of your son.”

“Yes,” Meredith added on a whisper. “Even that. Because he was a stranger to me.”

Shocked to hear her admit it, Julia stood, grabbing the chair to keep it from clattering to the floor. “Why did you stop here today?”

“I’ve come to make amends.”

If the entire situation hadn’t been so serious, Julia might have laughed. “You should talk to McCloud, not me.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me and you know it.”

Julia pulled in a shaky breath. “What makes you think I will?”

“A woman’s heart is more forgiving.” Her voice held the quiet ring of hope.

Julia walked to the edge of the porch. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to leave my land to your heirs.”

Julia spun around and caught Meredith’s gaze. “Your land?” Her heart surged with hope. All those wonderful fertile acres … Then she remembered the proud man she married.

“McCloud would never accept it. I know he wouldn’t.”

“Then you’d better find a way to make him listen, Julia, because either I leave my land to him and his heirs, and he accepts it, or I sell it to the first person who wants it. And I can’t believe that husband of yours is so prideful and stubborn that he’d let that land slip through his fingers.”

She rose and went down the porch steps. “Mother and I are moving to Martinez. The trial will be there, I guess. Whatever Serge is, he’s the only thing I have left, and I
will
be there for him.”

She took Julia’s hand in hers. “You have one month to contact Earl Williams and tell him yea or nay. After that, he’ll sell it.”

Julia watched her leave, wondering if McCloud would even be home in a month. If he wasn’t, did she dare agree to accept the land on his behalf, knowing how he felt about his mother?

Wolf tied the horses to the hitching post and stepped into the jail. It was hard not to tell his half brother to go straight to hell, then wipe him from his mind forever. After all, he was so close to home, he could almost smell the sweet scent of his wife. But he needed to know the man better. Find out why Serge hated him so much. What made him tick.

He went inside, walked passed the empty desk and into the room that held the cells. Barnes snored on his cot. Serge was reading the paper.

“Hello, Serge.”

Serge put the paper on the cot and stood, wiping his palms on his trousers. “What do you want?”

“Some answers.”

Serge approached the bars, his steps leery. “What else is there to know? You’ve got everything you want. I’ve got nothing.”

Wolfs reaction was to ask him whose fault that was, but he refrained. Despite everything that had happened, he felt sorry for the man.

“Who burned down my barn and my cabin, Serge?”

“Frank. On my orders.”

Wolf felt as if there were a weight on his chest. “Did you hate me that much?”

“I hated what you were.” Serge dragged his fingers through his long, disheveled hair. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be me?” There was a hint of panic in his voice.

“No, I don’t.”

Serge pounded his fist on the bars. “At least you didn’t tell me you understood. God, but I hate that. No one understands unless they’re inside my skin.”

“I am sorry about one thing, though.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” He sounded defensive, as if expecting an insult.

“That we didn’t get to know each other.”

Serge snorted. “And why would you want to get to know your Nancy-boy brother, huh?”

Shame crept into Wolfs face. Even though he’d used the term as part of his act when he and Crawford set the trap for Barnes, he’d also used it when talking with Julia. “I apologize for that. It was cruel and uncalled for.”

“Yes. It was. I was never a threat to you, you must have known that.”

“I knew it immediately. I should have been more sensitive, Serge. If anyone understands what it’s like to be an outcast, it’s me.”

Serge swung away. “I’d like you to do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“I want you to keep an eye on Mother.”

“The
hell
I will—”

“That’s all I ask, McCloud. She doesn’t need money, she doesn’t need friends. She’s got plenty of both. But I’d like to know that you aren’t holding a grudge against her for something she did twenty-six years ago. Haven’t you ever done anything you regret?”

He pushed the right buttons, didn’t he? Wolf thought. He took a deep breath and dug his hands into his back pockets. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

Tears pooled in Serge’s eyes and he blinked. “That’s all I ask.”

Wolf stuck his hand through the bars, Serge hesitated, then took it. His grip was firm. Serge had done a lot of terrible things, but Wolf pitied him just the same. His life in prison would be miserable, especially if Barnes were there to tell everyone Serge’s inclination.

Josette’s limbs continued to swell. Mattie had drawn Julia aside the day they’d discovered her trying to abort and told her that Josette had a fever, and Mattie was concerned. The doctor was called to examine her, and his diagnosis wasn’t good. He feared Josette had poison in her blood, and if that were the case, there was nothing anyone could do but wait.

She got out of bed only to relieve herself, and needed help to do so. She was petulant, listless, and slept a great deal. When she was awake and alert, she worked on the quilt. Her stitches were not as clean and even as Julia’s, but Julia didn’t care. The fact that Josette was willing to do
something
made it worthwhile.

The sisters had formed a quiet truce. Josette had even apologized for all of the things she’d done to Julia in the past But that had been weeks ago. Now, Josette was having trouble with her memory, sometimes even becoming delirious.

Julia stopped at her sister’s room on her way outside to hang laundry. Josette’s face bore the ravages of her disease. Her once sunny-blond hair was dull and stringy. Her eyes were flat and her mouth in a perpetual frown. Julia still hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask about the baby.

Smiling at her sister, she sat on the bed. “How are you this morning?”

Josette cringed. “I feel terrible.”

Julia brushed her sister’s hair off her forehead, uncovering a mass of reddened blotches. “How about if I fix your hair today?”

Josette’s answer was a bloodless shrug. “What difference does it make what I look like? I’m fat and swollen and I feel like a cow.”

Josette’s fingers were puffy and almost lifeless as Julia clasped them in hers. “You’re still the prettiest Larson girl around,” she encouraged.