Jane Goodger (9 page)

Boone knew it was a mistake to leave his store in the hands of someone who didn’t realize just how important it was to keep everything in its place. He hadn’t worried about Julia, for George had promised to keep an eye on her. But when he walked into his store, he broke out into a cold sweat.

Everything was wrong.

“You’re back,” Miss Amelia said from behind the counter, a smile on her face. He hardly noticed her smile, the genuinely happy welcome. All he could see was that everything was in disarray.

He wasn’t certain when it had become so important to him to keep everything in the store precisely where he wanted it. He hadn’t been like that when he was a child helping Mr. Johnson. Back then, the store had been a rambling hodgepodge of items shelved by size, not by what they contained. A customer might find linseed oil next to a jug of honey or a bag of salt. But Roy could find everything…eventually.

Boone darted a look at her and tried to stop himself from shooing her out of the store immediately. “I hope my brother gets the telegram within days. I’m certain he can arrange someway to get the money to me quickly. Did you have a good trip? I so do appreciate your doing this for me.”

All the while she’d been talking, he’d been trying to set things aright. It looked as if a bull had rampaged the place, leaving everything helter-skelter.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding exasperated. “I spent hours last night arranging everything just so, and now you’re doing it all again. Well, perhaps not hours. But it’s perfectly fine.”

A sheen of sweat shone on his hands as he carefully put everything on the shelves precisely the way that was necessary. He did it because he had to. Because if he didn’t…he didn’t really know what would happen if he didn’t. He simply had to.

“I must say, you certainly are particular,” she said.

“It’s all wrong,” he muttered, carefully aligning the cans so that they were exactly the same distance from the edge of each shelf—the length of the first joint of his index finger. He didn’t even dare look at the ribbons and fabrics at the back of the store, which were no doubt in complete disarray.

He felt her come up beside him and wished she’d go away. He knew he was strange to care this much. He’d been made fun of for years because of his meticulous nature.

“Boone?”

He stopped, slightly irritated with her interference.

“I already straightened them.” She sounded slightly annoyed, but he didn’t care. He only wanted to fix everything she’d managed to put in disarray while he was gone. He should have known better than to leave his store in the hands of someone else.

“They are not properly organized.”

Amelia felt completely unappreciated. She’d worked hard to make the store neat and clean for his return. She’d taken a feather duster and swept it over every single item in the store. Amelia had never dusted a thing in her life. She felt rather proud of herself for doing it without uttering a single complaint. She certainly hadn’t heard the words “thank you” come out of his mouth yet. “Perhaps they were not properly organized when you left,” she said, and nearly laughed at his unveiled look of disbelief. He’d been holding his index finger at the edge of each shelf and moving the items precisely, so that they all lined up perfectly. He even tested the items that clearly had not been moved.

How maddening.

“Every single person in this town came through the store while you were gone when they realized I was behind the counter.” He kept his focus entirely on the items, gazing with a single-minded intensity that was rather fascinating to watch. He had a nice profile, and his lashes were strikingly long for a man. Carson had those same lashes, but his were blond and less noticeable. “You didn’t have any patients. I did see Julia, however.”

“Hmmm.”

At that moment, he reminded her of her brother when he was looking at a rare book. He was so completely focused on his task, her dress could catch fire and he no doubt wouldn’t notice. Amelia had always been one to tease, and saw no reason why she shouldn’t now. So she nudged the nearest jar of preserved peaches one-quarter inch back, a little poke, while she stared daggers at his profile. His only response was to place his finger upon the shelf and move the preserves so the jar was aligned with its neighbor.

Poke.

“I do not find you amusing, Miss Amelia,” he said, straightening out her next victim. “I am not trying to be amusing,” she lied, grinning at him. Not that he’d notice, since he was still focused on the jars. Poke. “I am trying to be annoying.”

His nostrils flared, and it was obvious he was trying valiantly not to get annoyed. She’d thought he would simply ignore her, but when she went to poke her third bottle of preserved peaches, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could make contact. He didn’t squeeze her wrist, but she could feel the strength of him just the same, as if she were being lightly held by iron.

He stared at her, his gray eyes hard as steel, and without a hint of amusement, he said, “Please stop.”

They were inches apart, so close she could feel his angry breath against her forehead, so close she could see the gold specks in his beautiful gray eyes. She noticed again just how thick his eyelashes were. His eyes swept her face, touched on her mouth, and he dropped her hand.

Amelia smiled up at him, extended one finger, and held it against the next jar.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, but this time she thought she detected a glint of something other than annoyance in his eyes. Laughter perhaps?

“And what if I do?”

Again, his gaze slipped down her face to her mouth and back, as if drawn there against his will. He gave her a look of pure exasperation, as if he were baffled by her childlike behavior. Amelia let out a soft laugh.

“You won’t do anything, will you?”

“I’ll dunk you in the fountain,” he said, as if proud that he’d come up with such a brilliant idea.

“You wouldn’t. Not for simply moving a jar”—she could feel the cool smooth glass beneath the tip of her finger—“like this.” She nudged it, let out a squeal, leaped back, and found herself slightly disappointed when he simply sighed and fixed the jar.

“You’re no fun,” she said. “A stodgy old man like my brother.” It was no fun antagonizing someone if they did not react. Amelia let out a sigh, crossing her arms and meandering away from where Boone worked.

“I could help,” she said.

“No. Thank you.” He was studying the shelf, making certain all the items were aligned. As if it mattered. Amelia had been bored to tears ever since her arrival. Other than her visit to Julia, she’d spent most of her time alone. There were no shops in Small Fork, no theaters or museums, or even a book to read. The only books Boone had in his home were medical journals, and she wasn’t yet bored enough to start reading them.

She’d gone to visit Paula earlier, but the woman had taken her baby and young son to visit her family in Fort Worth. She watched Boone work, amazed that someone could care so much about something so insignificant. His movements were measured, careful, his gaze intent on his work. Boone was probably even more handsome than Carson, or he would be if he ever smiled. He seemed to be rather a cold fish. Certainly, he was not a great conversationalist. No wonder he wasn’t married.

“Do you have a sweetheart?” she asked to fill the silence, more than out of any real curiosity. “No.”

“Have you ever?”

“No.”

“Do you want one?” she asked, her voice tinged with laughter because it was clear to her she was annoying him.

“Not particularly.”

Amelia tilted her head. Was she, perhaps, in the presence of a confirmed bachelor? He was far too young and far too handsome for that fate.

“I suppose you don’t have much chance to meet women here,” she said. “I adore balls and parties and dinners. Not that I got much chance to attend any of those before my engagement.” She let out an extremely unladylike snort, and smiled when she saw him grin at the noise.

“I’d just had my come-out, you see. London is spectacular. Well, when it’s not raining or clogged with smoke and fog. Did you know that people die in the fog? It gets so thick, it kills people. Kills them! I was only fifteen and in Meremont, but I read about it in the
Times
. I wrote to my brother that I never wanted to go to London. Ever. I was so frightened. And then, only a few years later, I was begging him to take me.” She paused. “Am I bothering you?”

He seemed to consider her question carefully before answering. “No.”

“Shall I tell you about London?”

“If you wish.”

“Well, I’ve only been twice and not for very long. It’s very noisy and dirty. Not where we live, though. But…”

He looked up, questioning.

“I do believe I’m a country girl at heart. I adore balls and such, but I think I can admit to you that by the time we left London and returned to Meremont, I was so sick of it all. You have no idea what it entails being an earl’s sister. It’s exhausting. All those visits and smiling at people who bore you to tears, who talk and talk and say nothing at all.” Amelia burst out laughing and Boone smiled at her.

“I’m not doing that to you, am I? Talking and talking and boring you?”

“No. I’m just not used to having anyone to talk to.”

“Oh.” She noticed his cheeks turning slightly ruddy, as if he were embarrassed to admit such. “I’m afraid I will talk your ears off if you let me. I’m used to having people to talk with, you see. I’ve a whole house full of children to entertain.” Her voice faded a bit. She missed her stepcousins fiercely.

“Small Fork doesn’t have many children.”

“I’ve only seen one. Carson told me the streets were filled with children playing. He lied about that, too.”

“Carson likes making people happy,” Boone said. “He just can’t stand it if someone is angry with him.”

“And so he’ll say anything.”

Boone stopped his work, and turned fully to Amelia. “I’m sorry for what my brother did to you.”

Amelia gave him a halfhearted smile. “I am too. Hopefully, my brother will send me funds, I’ll go home, and this will simply be a wonderful adventure.” She felt a tickle along her temple and grimaced when her hand came away dripping. “I must say I’ll not miss the heat.”

“It’s not hot today.”

It was scorching, the air in the store stagnant and oppressive. She was constantly moist, constantly feeling trickles of sweat where she’d never felt them before, moving down her back and between her breasts. Her dresses were nearly soaked by the end of the day, when finally the air cooled and she could find some relief.

“In Meremont it’s always cool. Deliciously cool. We live by the sea and the air in the summer just drips with the scent of it. I used to sit on a cliff overlooking the water and stare out and wonder what America would be like. It always seemed to me to be the best of all places.”

“It’s not?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s only that I’ve seen it from a dusty train. And it’s not at all what I expected. It’s so…big.”

“That’s Texas.”

“It goes on forever. More and more land, leading to nowhere. I don’t mean to sound so disagreeable.”

As he moved from one place in the store to another, she followed, chatting away, not really caring if it was, for the most part, a one-sided conversation. “I guess it takes getting used to.

“Why don’t you want a sweetheart?” She’d always bothered her brother about finding a wife, especially when she’d suspected he had a secret love. Her suspicions were realized when she discovered her brother had almost fallen in love on a visit to Newport, Rhode Island, only to leave the poor girl behind in America. It wasn’t until Maggie showed up in England that she realized her brother had, indeed, fallen in love.

“Guess it’s too much trouble,” he said.

“You don’t plan ever to get married?”

“Don’t see why I should.”

“For one thing, you can’t have children,” Amelia said. “Don’t you want a family? Don’t you want to fall in love?”

“I never really gave it a thought.”

She looked at him as if he were a foreign creature. What person wouldn’t dream about love and family and children running about? Her brother might have claimed to not want to get married, but he’d always known he would. Boone truly didn’t seem to care one way or the other. If fact, it was almost as if marriage was something he’d never thought about. “You can’t be serious. Surely there’s someone you’ve met or seen or imagined that you could marry.”

He stared at her and slowly shook his head. “Nope.”

“No one?”

“I don’t think I could take all the chatter.”

She opened her mouth as if angry, then gave into laughter, wondering if Boone was trying to be funny or if she just found him so. He smiled, so she realized he was just teasing her.

“Truth is, not too many unattached women travel through these parts, and I just don’t have the inclination to go off someplace looking for a wife.”

“That’s a much better answer. I thought that perhaps you truly were made of stone.” She hugged her arms around herself. “Ever since I was little, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. A home, a husband, a place that was mine. I suppose it may be because my parents both died when I was quite young, leaving me alone. I’ve never really felt like I had a home. Just a big old drafty house filled with furniture and servants.” Amelia let out a sigh just thinking about those long, lonely days she’d spent while Edward was off in the Light Guards and she’d been left to wander around their house by herself. “I don’t ever want to be alone again. Don’t you get lonely here? It seems like the loneliest place on earth to me.”

“Yes,” he said, carefully moving a small sack of beans to the right. “It can be.”

That night, Boone taught her how to light the stove and Amelia let him, thinking all the time that this was one particular skill that she would never need to master. Still, she watched him, and when he told her how to regulate the temperature, she paid attention. They fried up some steak and boiled potatoes and carrots, even though Amelia had always disliked cooked carrots.

She had much more fun cooking than she’d thought she would, and told Boone that.