The Kissing Tree (9 page)

“Yep,” he answered honestly. “Weren’t one of my best moments, I’m afraid.”

“Boy, I bet she got all fired up at ya. That girl could bite the head off a rattlesnake with that temper of hers.”

“You’re right about that.” Ridge chuckled softly, remembering he’d thought the exact same thing several times.

“I kinda like it when she gets all fired up, though. Have ya ever noticed how when she does her eyes turn from gray almost to violet?”

Ridge had noticed . . . noticed that very thing when he first moved to town at the age of ten and started teasin’ her. He was not about to admit it to Jimmy though.

“Jimmy, stop thinkin’ ’bout Miss Georgiana and get some sleep.”

“I s’pose you’re right.” He heard Jimmy roll over onto his back, and he was silent for a while before he spoke again. “Hey, Ridge, ya still awake?”

“Mmm . . . hmm.”

“How come ya haven’t ever got married?” Before Ridge could answer, Jimmy started laughing. “I know why Jonas and Jeremiah ain’t—who would want’em? Ya wouldn’t get one without the other, and, boy, they would drive any girl crazy. But you’re a good guy, Ridge, and you’re always turnin’ the ladies’ heads. Why haven’t ya found some nice gal and settled down?”

Ridge groaned audibly. Jimmy had him thinking of Georgiana again with all his questions, and now this new line of questioning was bound to have him thinking about her more. It was all too frustrating.

“Ah, Jimmy, go ta sleep, will ya? Remember . . . ”

“I know . . . I know,” Jimmy cut in. “Mornin’ comes early on a cattle ranch. Night, Ridge.”

“Night, Jimmy.”

Ridge lay in bed thinking for a long time after Jimmy had fallen asleep. He envied the boy’s ability to drop off so quickly. Only minutes had passed before Jimmy’s breathing had become soft and even.

Frustrated, Ridge stood up, undressed, and climbed back into bed. It was still a while, though, before he was finally able to fall into a dream-filled sleep. One woman dominated those dreams—one woman and a faceless man.

Georgiana paused in the doorway to watch her grandfather for a moment. He was sitting at the table, staring out the window while absentmindedly twirling a delicate piece of fabric in his hands. Taking a closer look, it appeared to be a lace-trimmed handkerchief. He appeared to be deep in thought, but he must have sensed she was standing there because he slowly glanced over at her.

“Good mornin’, darlin girl.”

“Good morning, Grandad.” She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “What is that you are holding?” she asked as she casually walked over to the cupboard. She began removing the items she needed to make breakfast.

“Belonged to yar grandmother,” he said thoughtfully. She had figured as much. “Found it in one of me saddlebags on top o’ the mountain.”

She turned at his revelation, hearing the poignancy in his words. His hands were shaking slightly. She could tell he was fighting to hold back his emotions. With a voice stronger than he appeared, he continued speaking.

“Yar grandmother was ever the romantic, even ’til the day she died.” He breathed in deeply for a moment. “Whenever the fellas and me went out on a drive or a trip somewhere, she’d tuck one of these here hankies, doused with that flowery scent she liked so much, in me pocket when she kissed me good-bye.
‘
For luck,’ she’d say, and then she would wink at me and add, ‘
and to be remindin’ ye who yar heart belongs to
.’
I must have left it in me pack on the last drive.” He lifted the cloth to his face and breathed in deep. “Still smells of me dear one.” She could see that his eyes were moist.

Georgiana went over and sat next to him, taking the hand that wasn’t holding her grandmother’s handkerchief in hers. He squeezed it gently in appreciation.

“I miss her too, Grandad,” was all she managed to say as her own eyes filled and threatened to lose their burden.

They sat for another few moments in silence before he stood up and released her hand. He carefully folded up the hankie and put it in his shirt pocket.

“Awk, enough of this here. Best be gettin’ back to work. Do ye need me to be doin’ anything fer ye this mornin’?”

“Would you mind too terribly seeing if Jimmy, or one of the other men, would be willing to drive me into town today after breakfast? I’m in need of a few things from the mercantile and I have some letters to post.”

“Aye, Jimmy will be all too glad to be takin’ ye into town again. I’ll go make his day a grand one by givin’ him the news.” He smiled as he leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head. “Well then, I suppose I’ll be seein’ ye shortly for breakfast.” He took his hand and patted his stomach. “Ye are too good of a cook fer me own good. If I don’t stop eatin’ so much, I’m goin’ to have ta be sendin’ ye into town to be buyin’ me some new britches.” He chuckled softly for a moment and added, “Course, even if yer fattenin’ me up, I wouldn’t have ye anywhere else but here.”

“I love you, Grandad.” She reached over this time and laid her hand on his arm. He laid his own hand over hers. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Aye, ’tis good to hear it, and I love ye as well, me girl . . . more than ye will ever know.” He smiled as he turned to leave.

Georgiana stayed sitting for a minute, watching him out the window as he walked toward the barn, his head hung low. Finding her grandmother’s handkerchief, as he’d done, surely must have been a shock. They had loved each other dearly. She had known it was so, even as a young child. The way her grandmother’s eyes would light up every time he’d enter the room and the way he had to always be near her, holding her hand or touching her in some small way. It was almost as if there was some unseen magnetic force always pulling them toward each other. She had felt something akin to the same whenever Ridge was around lately.

Startled at her admission, Georgiana stood up quickly and started the task of making breakfast. Since the men had returned from the mountain, their appetites seemed to have doubled, if that was even possible. If she wanted to get to town before too long, she needed to spend less time thinking about a certain person and more time getting things done.

After arriving in town, Georgiana was pleasantly surprised, not to mention relieved, when upon entering the mercantile she found Mr. Whitaker tending the store instead of his overly nosy wife. She hadn’t yet seen him since she’d returned, not even at church where his wife tried to corner and bombard her with questions each Sunday. Thankfully, her grandfather most often came to her rescue.

Mr. Whitaker looked nearly the same as he had five years ago, except for the speckling of gray at his temples and a slightly rounder midsection. She smiled genuinely at him. She had always liked Mr. Whitaker, ever since he’d talked her father into letting six-year-old Georgiana have one of the new pups he was giving away. In his honor, she had named the pup Benny, since Mr. Whitaker’s given name was Benjamin.

“Good morning, Mr. Whitaker. It’s a pleasure finally seeing you again.” She quickly looked around to see if he was the only one she needed to greet.

“If it isn’t little Miss Georgie, all grown up!” he laughed enjoyably.

“Where have you been hiding out these last few weeks?” she inquired.

“Well, do you remember my brother who used to run the livery stables?”

Georgiana nodded, faintly remembering the man.

“About three years back he moved to Nebraska, where his wife’s family hails from. Their youngest daughter, Eliza, finally found herself a beau. She was always a good girl, mind you, just not the best looker.”

Georgiana had to fight to suppress a grin. She did remember Eliza. She’d been a year older than Ridge and for the longest time had made him the object of her affections. She could still remember the look on Ridge’s face every time he saw her headed his way.

“When John wrote and told me the boy had proposed,”
Mr. Whitaker continued, “I told the missus we ought to go to the weddin’. It was high time we paid him a visit anyway.” He paused to straighten the candy jars lining the counter. “The missus was sore pressed to have to close up shop for two weeks being it’s a good time of year for the store and all, so she told me I should go alone.” He grinned somewhat guiltily. “I wasn’t going to argue with that.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Got me some good huntin’ and fishin’ in while I was there.” With a wink, he stood back up. “There’s a surprise comin’ for the missus in a few weeks, maybe less if I’m lucky. Shot me a twelve pointer and had the tanner stuff it. I was thinkin’ it would look good right there.” He pointed to the wall above the counter. “I’m gonna give it to the missus for her birthday.” A mischievous look alighted his eyes as he added, “In front of a few witnesses, that is. She can’t make me get rid of it that way. It would not only be rude, but unchristian-like if she did. She’s got her reputation, ya know.” He smiled gingerly. “She’ll probably be mad at me for years, but boy, will it be worth it!”

Georgiana almost laughed out loud picturing the look on Mrs. Whitaker’s face when her husband hung a stuffed deer head above the counter.

Mr. Whitaker’s face turned all business. “Now, enough about me. What is it you’re needin’ today?”

Georgiana handed him her list, and he started gathering her things. When he was finished, he carried them out to the wagon, which Jimmy had left in front of the mercantile.

“Thank you, Mr. Whitaker,” she said graciously.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Georgie,” he answered heartily. But before he went back into the store, he leaned in close and whispered, “Now, I trust my secret is safe with you. Don’t want the missus’s surprise ruined or anythin’.”

“Why of course, Mr. Whitaker,” she promised, trying to look serious. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining what is sure to be the best gift at your wife’s birthday celebration.”

Mr. Whitaker grinned proudly, then, giving her a wink, headed back into the store.

Georgiana looked about to see if she could spot Jimmy. When he’d dropped her off at the post office this time, he said he needed to pick up a few things at the feed store and was then off to visit his sister. There were several items and bags of feed stacked in the back of the wagon, so she assumed he was still at his sister’s house.

Well,
she thought,
I’ll just wander about town a while until he returns.

Looking up the boardwalk, Georgiana decided maybe she would pay a visit to Mrs. Perkins’s dress shop, but when she walked up to the store, she could see from outside the window that Mrs. Perkins had customers she was waiting on. She would have to pay the woman a visit another time.

Not too much farther up the street was the saloon. Even during the day, the loud, obnoxious vaudeville music drifted into the road.

Disdainfully, Georgiana turned and walked the other way, when something down the street caught her eye. Unconsciously, her step hastened until only moments later she stood a few feet from it. It was still as grand and as glorious as ever. Standing at the edge of the wide, low hanging branches, she looked around furtively to see if anyone was watching. When she saw no one, she quickly ducked underneath.

A flood of memories assaulted her at once, and she walked hesitantly toward the trunk of the ancient tree. Reverently she placed her hands up against it and with her fingers began tracing the names that had been carved into weathered bark over the years. Some of the names were familiar, others were older that she did not recognize, and still some she could tell had been written in recent years. One inscription in particular caught her eye and tore at her heart. It read
Mitch and Samantha . . . Forever
. She crouched down and ran her fingers over the inscription lingeringly, her heart pained for her friend’s loss.

Just as she was about to stand up, another inscription farther down caught her eye. She moved closer to read it. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw what it said. The letters were all capitals and carved deeply into the bark: RIDGE LOVES GEORGIE. A faint line of a heart shape encircled the words. When did Ridge carve this? she thought, running her now trembling fingers along the deep grooves. A tumultuous wave of raw emotion rose up within her and ebbed its way to the surface. For a moment she was a young girl again, experiencing all the thrill and excitement of her first crush, and in the next moment she felt beaten down and hopeless.

All of a sudden, the sound of leaves crunching on the ground behind her caused Georgiana to jump up and almost lose her balance. Grabbing the trunk with both hands to keep from falling, she quickly turned and leaned against it to further steady herself. As she finally looked up, there he stood.

“Ridge!” her voice registered her shock at seeing him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away, just stared at her. He seemed to be deep in thought. She fidgeted nervously.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he finally answered, his eyes still boring into hers.

Realizing he would have seen her examining his inscription, she instantly became self-conscious and looked away from him. Oh, why had she walked over to the tree in the first place? Because she had somehow felt drawn to it, she admitted to herself. The last time she’d stood under this tree she was happy, truly happy. With the exception of having lost her father, she had felt grounded. She knew where she belonged. She felt loved. Her home, her family, her friends . . . everything had been almost perfect. She’d missed it all so much.

A feeling of déjà vu washed over her as she looked at Ridge standing there—the same wavy brown hair and big honey-colored eyes. She was taken back to that day, her nervousness . . . her excitement. She feared if she stared up at him much longer, with him looking at her the way he was, she just might walk over to him and steal another kiss. This time though, she wouldn’t be able to run away. She imagined she would lose herself in his arms and confess her growing feelings.

Just then, Ridge took a few steps forward and stopped directly in front of her, his eyes never leaving her face. At once, she knew he meant to kiss her, and her eyes were drawn to his lips. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest.

Is this what I want?
she thought.
What of Dawson?

When Ridge reached over and took her hand in his, her body warmed as a surge of excitement ran through her senses, straight to her very core. But just as quickly, her brain began flinging out questions as it fought for control of her emotions. Her senses became confused as
her mind continued to battle with her heart.

“Ridge . . . please . . . I . . .” Georgiana knew she needed to get away now, fast. She couldn’t think with him being so near. Stepping to the side, she tore her hand from his and started to move past him. She hadn’t gone far when he turned and grabbed her arm this time.

“Georgie, wait . . .”

Her mind willed her legs to keep walking, but her heart willed them to stay. The inner turmoil gave cause for moisture to well up in her eyes. In the end, her heart won out, and she turned to face him.

“Ridge, I . . . I just can’t . . . It wouldn’t be right,” she finally managed to say.

“How could it be wrong?” he asked gently.

She shook her head, not wanting to reveal her thoughts. She definitely didn’t want to bring up Dawson. They quietly stared at one another again. She was very conscious of the fact that his hand still held her by the arm. Neither of them moved as he waited for her to reply.

“I just think,” she began, not knowing whether she could explain fully the way she felt, “that the past should remain the past. There was a time when I thought . . . I mean . . . even though sometimes I still think that . . .” She was having a difficult time. To add to that difficulty, her heart kept trying to compel her forward into his arms, but thankfully her mind kept her feet planted firmly where she stood. Finally, she just blurted out, “I’ve decided I’d like to be your friend, Ridge . . . but
only
your friend. Do you think that’s possible?”

Georgiana couldn’t decipher the look that came to his face, but he didn’t hesitate to question her.

“Is that
really
what you want?”