The Education of Madeline (5 page)

He nodded. “It's a right nice town.”

Madeline smiled. “I think they're hiring down at the sawmill if you want to check there first. I'm sure Eppie would be happy to show you the way.”

Eppie nodded. “Of course I will.”

“You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

Isaiah looked at her, his dark eyes full of disbelief mixed with wonder. “I appreciate it, Miss Madeline.”

“Can I take him now?” asked Eppie.

Madeline was delighted to see the sparkle in her eyes.

“Of course. Dinner isn't for hours, and there isn't much else that needs tending right now.”

Eppie smiled at Isaiah, who smiled back at her. The two of them left, side by side, quietly chatting.

Seems like life was changing for everyone this week.

Madeline cleared her dishes to the sink and then rinsed out her teacup. That's when she realized she was alone. No, not just alone, alone with Teague. Her heart galloped in her chest as she imagined what lesson two would be like.

Her hands were shaking when she set the teacup on the counter by the sink. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself, but it was no use. She had to find him. Right then. It was nearly…urgent. This feeling she had. Urgency. Yes, that was it.

Madeline dried her hands quickly on the towel hanging beside the sink and then walked out the back door into the yard. She couldn't stop the twinge of disappointment to find it empty. She headed for the barn to take a look in there.

She peeked her head in the barn and the carriage house, but they were both empty. She sighed and then called herself a ninny for expecting another lesson in the same day.

Teague must have gone into town for supplies at the store. She had the overwhelming urge to find out more about him. He was a man with haunted eyes. She was curious about his ghosts.

Looking around like a guilty child, she slipped into the carriage house and tiptoed up the stairs. When she got up to the loft, she wasn't surprised to find it neat. The bed was made, and no clothes lay on the floor. Not that he had but one extra set to wear.

The clothes, which Eppie had scrubbed until she complained her shoulders hurt, were hanging on a hook on the wall. The only other possession in the room was a small bag on the floor under the cot. The mattress was stuffed with straw and was probably not the coziest thing to sleep on, and he was such a big man, his feet must have hung off the end.

A small mirror was hanging on a nail by the window. Next to it on the sill lay a razor, strop, and a bar of soap perched in a cup. The smell of sandalwood was faint but unmistakable. It was a manly scent that reminded her of Teague immediately. She tried not to stare at the small bag under the bed, but her eyes kept returning to it.

Don't look inside it.

But I want to.

An inner battle raged between her devil and her angel. In the end, she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, peering under at the small brown sack. It was no bigger than a loaf of bread, and there didn't seem to be a lot in it. He must have had it in his pants pocket when she found him with a noose around his neck.

Madeline watched as her hand reached out and picked up the bag, placing it on her lap. She stared at it for a minute or two before she reached in and felt for the contents. She touched something cold and metallic and pulled out a small picture frame.

In it was a much younger Teague standing beside a petite woman holding a baby. They stood in front of a small house on a flat prairie. Teague was smiling with his arm around this woman. His wife, more than likely. It seemed like it was a happy day. A long time ago, for sure. He not only looked young, but his eyes were young.

She stared into his eyes. There were no ghosts or shadows lurking in their depths. So whatever existed there now probably had to do with what had happened to this woman and child.

She set the picture frame on the cot beside her and reached into the bag again. This time, she found what felt like a stack of paper. She pulled out letters, tied in some tired-looking twine. There had to be forty letters, carefully held together so neatly. All addressed to Teague O'Neal in a woman's flowery script. Madeline assumed it was the woman in the picture. They were postmarked from Missouri during the war and addressed to a Union Army camp. So he had fought for the Union, and he was from Missouri.

She didn't want to read the letters. They were too private to open. The letters joined the picture frame on the cot. Madeline reached in again and pulled out a small Bible. It was well worn and looked to have a bloodstain on the cover. She opened the cover and found an inscription that read:
To my darling husband, Teague. Keep the faith and keep yourself safe. Love, Claire.

Claire. So that was the woman's name. Very feminine and pretty. Madeline tried to squelch a spurt of jealousy. She had no call to be jealous of Teague's wife. He was her employee, not her boyfriend.

She set the Bible down with the other items and reached into the bag one last time. There was only one thing left in there that made her hands shake when she took it out. It was a lock of light brown hair and a lock of light blond hair. They were woven together to form a ring that would fit on Teague's wrist.

Hair from his wife and child. A piece of them to carry with him, likely into war. She stared at the hair in her hand and knew, just knew deep down, that they were dead. They had died while he was off at war. Somehow, someway.

Madeline felt her eyes prick with tears. He carried only four things with him, and they were all a part of his wife and child. He obviously loved her and still did. A small stab of disappointment lanced her heart. There wasn't any room in his life for another woman. Claire still owned his heart, even from the grave.

She reverently put the hair back in the bag and then replaced everything else as well. As she put the bag back under the bed, she heard footsteps downstairs.

 

Teague couldn't find anyone in the house or outside, so he went in the backyard to look. The door to the carriage house was open, so he figured Madeline or Eppie was in there.

As he stepped in, he heard someone upstairs.
In his bedroom loft
. A surge of annoyance went through him. What the hell would either one of them be doing up there?

He took the steps two at a time and found Madeline standing in the middle of the room, looking flushed and guilty.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked.

“Looking for you,” she answered.

“You're lying, Maddie.”

She looked as if he'd slapped her. “I beg your pardon?”

“You're looking like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar right before suppertime, so don't tell me you were looking for me. I was obviously not here.”

He felt angry and a bit of something else he couldn't identify to find her there. He glanced under the bed and realized his bag had been moved.

White-hot anger took over annoyance.

“Were you looking through my things?” he shouted. “You have no right!”

“I'm sorry!” she said as she wrung her hands together. “I am a horrible person. I…I can't help myself. I get these impulses and…I'm so sorry, Teague!”

“Get out.”

She nodded and went to leave the room. She stopped to touch his arm, and he flinched.

“You're an admirable man, Teague. A better person than I am. You have my deepest apologies.”

She left with a whiff of lavender. Teague's hands clenched into fists, and his breathing became irregular. He hadn't expected his emotions to come roaring back into his life. But they had with the force of a twister. Slamming him around like a wind he had no control over.

Damn Madeline for snooping. And damn his soft heart for caring about what she thought of him.

I
t was late—after midnight. Madeline couldn't sleep a wink. Her body was anxious, hungry. She felt like ants had landed on her body and were making her jump to their tune.

She had thrown the covers off hours ago. She lay in her bed staring out the window. It was a clear night, and the moon and stars were both staring down at her. The crescent moon was as bright as a new coin.

A cool breeze ruffled the gauzy white curtains. They moved gently toward her, reaching. The cool air felt wonderful against her heated skin. Her nipples puckered under her nightgown to painful points.

Her hands crept up and brushed across her breasts. A tingle of pleasure radiated from the contact. She closed her eyes and pictured Teague's handsome face. Remembered his hot, wet kisses. Soon her hands were rubbing back and forth across her nipples, faster and harder.

Madeline pinched one, and a jolt went straight like an arrow to the moist heat between her legs. She imagined that being with Teague would be like this, only more intense. She moaned in anticipation of it.

The small sound echoed through the bedroom and came back on her like a gentle rain. Her own pleasure was as arousing as thinking of Teague.

She pulled up her nightdress and exposed her heat to the cool breeze. Her legs slowly slid apart, and one hand landed between them. Her fingers stroked the swollen folds over and over as her hand continued to tease her nipples.

Back and forth, pleasure seeped through her body from head to toe. She wound up tighter and tighter. Her hands moved faster and faster.

Soon she was crying out in release as she reached her peak. The throbbing between her legs continued as her hands dropped away to land at her sides.

Her rapid heartbeat slowed as her heated blood cooled. Soon she shivered, and goose bumps broke out over her skin. She pushed her nightgown back down and pulled up the sheet.

Sleep crept over her finally. Her body relaxed into the feather mattress, and she drifted off into dreams of Teague and his entrance into her bed.

 

Madeline went outside in the morning with a fresh mug of coffee for Teague. She was going to apologize again for her behavior the day before and hoped he would still agree with her proposal. She knew she would never be able to approach another man about it, so it was Teague, or it was never.

The bright sunshine pricked her eyes. She wiped at them with the back of her free hand as she walked across the grass toward the carriage house. As she reached the door, it opened suddenly; startled, she raised both hands to ward off a broken nose or black eye. Instead, she tipped the hot coffee all over her chest.

She screamed in pain as the scalding brew burned her skin beneath her cotton dress. She dropped the mug on the ground and tried to pull the hot material away from her skin.

“Oh, shit, Maddie, I'm sorry!” Teague said as he stood there like a bump on a log.

“That…was what…I was coming to…say,” she huffed out as the pain grew to a crescendo.

“Let's get you in the house so Eppie can get something on that burn.”

Madeline just nodded and bit her lip. Who knew Eppie made the dang coffee so boiling hot? Her breasts and the top of her chest were throbbing in tune with her pulse. Over and over. It was worse than she thought. She was almost sure blisters were forming on her skin.

The two of them burst into the kitchen and scared Eppie, who was washing the table.

“Lord Jesus! What are you doing?”

Teague scowled at her. “She's been burned, Eppie.”

“Burned?” Eppie's eyes widened. “Burned by what?”

“Coffee.”

“What are you doing with coffee, Madeline?”

“Never mind,” Madeline hissed. “Just get some cold water and baking soda.”

Eppie jumped to the sink to start pumping water.

Teague led her to the table and sat her down gently. He reached for the buttons on her dress, and she stopped him.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to get that dress off you.”

Madeline almost smiled. “Something I hoped to hear from a man someday but not in my kitchen.”

Teague scowled deeper. “This isn't funny, Maddie.” His dark eyes were full of concern.

Madeline's heart skipped a beat. He was worried about her. That must mean he cared, at least a bit. How absolutely marvelous.

He started unbuttoning her dress with his big hands, and she wished she could have enjoyed it. When he saw her lacy white chemise, his mouth tightened perceptibly. His eyes flicked up to hers. She felt a pulse of heat shoot down to her mons. How could she possibly be thinking about bedding him? She was in agony, yet her body responded automatically to being near his.

“Eppie, go get something dry for her to wear.”

Eppie set down a pitcher of cool water and a rag and then dashed out of the kitchen.

“You'll pardon me,” Teague said right before he ripped her chemise right down the middle. Then he stared at the exposed skin.

It was another moment she desperately wished she could enjoy.

Madeline couldn't force herself to look down at her skin. Afraid of the damage.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“Not too bad,” he said as he dipped the rag in the cool water and then wrung it out. When the cloth touched her skin, she hissed a breath in.

“Sorry, Maddie. I'm trying not to hurt you.”

“It's…okay,” she managed to say around the pain.

“What were you doing out there anyway?” he asked.

After a moment, the coolness felt good, and she did her best to ignore the abrasiveness of the cloth on the tender skin.

“I was coming to apologize again.”

“To me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know anyone else living in my carriage house?”

“No need to apologize. You already did.”

She shook her head. “Not properly. I ran like a coward from my own mistake. I really am truly sorry. I…It was very wrong of me to snoop through your belongings. I hope you can forgive me.”

He glanced up at her, and his blue eyes were measuring. “You had no right to look through my things, but because it's your house, I suppose you do. I don't forgive easily anymore. I know you didn't mean any harm. I just ask that you not do it again.”

He dipped the cloth again, wrung it out, and continued his ministrations.

She sorted through his words before replying. “Thank you, Teague. I promise I won't do it again. Being nosy is one of my vices—one of many, actually.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up in a small grin. “Oh, I doubt you have that many vices, but I can teach you one or two.”

The idea of what vices he was willing to teach her was enough to set her imagination and her pulse fluttering again.

Eppie bustled back in the kitchen with her robe. “Mr. Teague! What are you doing? Madeline's half naked, and you're looking at her…at her skin!”

“It's okay, Eppie. He's only helping.”

Eppie grumbled as she wrapped the robe around Madeline's shoulder. “Helping himself to an early dessert is what he's doing.”

Madeline felt a smile playing around her lips and met Teague's gaze. His eyes were dancing in amusement.

“I'll leave her in your capable hands, then, Miss Eppie.”

“Better mine than yours, mister. You go on now and do what you're getting paid to do.”

Madeline had to bite her lip from laughing. What Teague was getting paid to do did involve her skin and his hands. With a salute at Eppie and a wink for Madeline, he went out the back door.

Eppie shook her head as she glanced at Madeline's skin. It was tight, throbbing, and painful.

“Only a couple welts. Mostly just angry looking. Let's get some baking soda on that and lay you down in bed for a spell.”

Eppie led her upstairs to her bedroom and then ran back to the kitchen for her supplies. She made a poultice out of baking soda and some other ingredients Madeline didn't want to know about and then left her in her bed.

Alone again.

Madeline could hear Teague hammering somewhere outside and wished he was lying beside her. She felt her nearly sleepless night kick her gently, and the rhythmic sound of the hammering lulled her into slumber.

 

Teague wiped his arm across his forehead. The sun was warm, giving a hint of summer heat. He stared at the boards he'd repaired in the front fence, but he was seeing Madeline. Madeline with her dress open and her dark eyes full of want and longing.

He wanted to quench that thirst, fulfill her needs. When had it happened? When had he started forgetting about Claire? What was it about Madeline that pushed Claire out of his thoughts?

He threw the hammer down in self-disgust. He'd vowed never to let another woman touch his heart or his soul. Madeline, in less than a week, had made him forget that vow.

“You okay, mister?”

Teague looked up to find a young Negro man standing at the fence.

“Can I help you, son?”

“No, sir. I'm staying at the house. Miss Madeline gave me a room till I can find a place of my own.”

Teague shook his head. “Miss Madeline has a big heart.”

“Yes, that she does. Miss Eppie does, too.” His brown eyes lit from within.

So that was the way of it. He was sweet on Eppie.

“You work here?”

“I'm working for Miss Madeline for a month, fixing up things and whatever else she needs done.”

The man nodded. “I wish I could find a job like that. I asked at the mill, but they ain't hiring my kind.”

Teague felt a spurt of anger over how people treated Negroes. He'd never owned a slave, never thought they were beneath him in any way, and treated all folks the same. He was sick and tired of other people's attitudes.

Too bad he wasn't supposed to care. Damnit all to hell. Now his emotions were popping up right and left.

“Maybe Miss Madeline has something she can hire you on to do.”

His eyes looked hopeful. “You think she needs to hire someone else?”

Teague shrugged. “I'll be here only a month. She probably needs help with that garden out back behind the barn and likely with the milk cow in the barn. There's a few hens out back scratching the ground, too. Lots to do.”

The other man nodded. “I'll go speak to Miss Madeline directly. Much obliged….”

Teague held out his hand to shake. “Teague. Teague O'Neal.”

“Isaiah Harper.”

After the other man left, Teague blew out a breath and headed for the well. Maybe a dunk of cold water was what he needed. He was just pulling a bucket up when Eppie came out the back door. She eyeballed him suspiciously before she marched over with a bucket.

“Going to milk the cow?” He inclined his head in greeting.

Eppie nodded. “You sent Isaiah to talk to Miss Madeline about a job?”

“I won't be here long. She'll need someone full time to help around here. There's much more work to be done than I can do in a month's time.”

Eppie nodded. “Not doing it out of charity, then?”

“No, ma'am. He looks like a strong worker.” He shrugged. “And someone that won't cheat or take advantage of her. I expect people try to do that all the time.”

“Yes, Mr. O'Neal, they do. But not when I'm around. I take care of her.”

“I can see that.”

“Just so we understand each other.”

Teague thought he'd just passed some kind of test. What test, however, he hadn't the foggiest clue.

“How is she?”

“She's resting now with a poultice I put on her. It won't scar, but she'll be paining some the next few days. She won't be able to go to the bank neither. Not that she's been there in the past week for her usual hours anyway. She's taken way too much time off.”

Eppie started to walk away.

“Bank? What do you mean bank?”

She cocked her head at him. “Didn't you know? Miss Madeline owns half this town, including the bank. She's a right important person, if only I could make her see that.”

Eppie was like a little philosopher. She looked young and innocent, but behind those chocolate-brown eyes beat the heart of an old soul. She saw Madeline struggle with her guilt over what her father had done and knew she could do something about it but didn't. Madeline had to stand on her own two feet by herself.

Teague's estimation of this young girl was way off. She was not only Maddie's friend, she was the wall behind her. Ready to help her when she got up off her knees.

“We'll be having ham sandwiches for dinner. In about an hour or so. Come on in the house after you wash up, and I'll have it ready.”