The Longing (18 page)

She backed out of the room without saying a
word.

Well, that had gone well. He was going to
kill Boyd tomorrow. Kyle scrubbed himself dry then yanked on his
robe. He looked down and saw that Amelia had even brought his
slippers to the kitchen. She’d done all of this to please him and
he’d acted like an ass and scared her. Why was she so afraid of him
anyhow?

A gush of steam spewed out of the pot and
sizzled on the stove. Kyle sighed. He might as well enjoy his
supper, because Amelia’s expression told him it would be the only
pleasure he would have tonight.

Amelia’s face was still flushed when she
returned, but she went to the stove and dished up two plates of
chicken and dumplings, then set them on the table without looking
at him.

Kyle made sure his robe was completely closed
and belted before he sat down. “Do you know if your father ever
gambled?” he asked, and was immediately rewarded with direct eye
contact.

“Of course he didn’t. How could you even
think such a thing?”

“I don’t think that,” he said, spooning up a
gravy-covered piece of chicken. “I’m just trying to figure out
where all his money was going.”

“Probably to fix the mill and pay off his
debts.”

“Maybe, but I think he might have been
earning enough to keep the mill in repair without going into debt.”
Kyle blew on his chicken before putting it in his mouth. He savored
the flavor, grateful for not having to eat his own miserable
cooking. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you.” Amelia took a bite and stared at
her plate while she chewed. “Why would Papa borrow money if the
mill was able to support itself?”

“I don’t know. I checked his record book
before buying the lumberyard, and he appeared to be producing a
fairly nice profit. That’s why I asked if he gambled. Your father
has acquired a ton of debt without a logical reason to do so.
Initially, I thought it was because the lumberyard wasn’t making
money. But I think it is.”

She glanced up. “That’s wonderful news!”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” It would take at least
three years to pay off Tom’s debts, and that didn’t include
replacing the saw, which wouldn’t last much longer, and any other
breakdowns or problems they might have.

Kyle reached for the salt shaker. Missing
money made him nervous. That money had been used for something that
Tom didn’t want shown on his books. And it had been important
enough for Tom to bankrupt his own business in order to fund or
support it.

“I’ll add more salt next time,” Amelia
said.

Kyle glanced down and realized he was burying
his food out of habit. “No. This is perfect.” He placed the salt
shaker beside the pepper then picked them up in one hand. “Really.
I’ve just gotten used to hiding my bad cooking beneath a heap of
salt and pepper. Most nights it was the only way I could choke it
down.”

Amelia smiled and Kyle finally began to
relax. It felt odd to be sitting at his own table having a
conversation. Most nights he sat alone with his head in his hand,
gulping down his mother’s leftovers or whatever he could cook the
quickest. Occasionally one of his brothers or his mother would stop
by, but they rarely ate with him. He’d been comfortable with that,
but it wasn’t a hardship coming home to a good meal and having more
than the four walls for company.

Kyle placed the twin shakers in the middle of
the table, and sat back in his chair. Amelia wasn’t temporary
company. Barring misfortune or odd circumstance, she would be his
tablemate every evening of his life. And soon she was going to
become more than that.

He glanced at her, but her gaze was settled
on his chest. Kyle looked down and saw that his robe had gaped
open. His first urge was to jerk it closed and apologize, but when
he glanced at Amelia, her eyes were brimming with shy curiosity. If
he hadn’t witnessed the fear in her eyes when he’d been climbing
out of the bath, he would have sworn she wanted him to touch him.
Her mixed messages were killing him.

“Do you think Papa could have been buying
another mill?”

He saw her mouth move, but his mind was too
busy seducing her to understand a word she’d spoken.

“Could Papa have used his money to buy
another business?”

Kyle gulped a breath of air and dragged his
mind back to their conversation. He had to get the hell out of the
house. He absolutely couldn’t spend another night lying beside her
with his fists clenched and his body aching.

“Kyle? Are you all right?”

“Did your father have any close friends who
might have asked him to participate in a deal of some sort?” he
asked.

“No.” She shook her head as if to confirm her
statement. “Papa spent all his time at the lumberyard or with Mama.
He came to see me twice a week at my apartment, but that was the
extent of his socializing after I...when I started teaching.” Her
gaze dropped to her plate. “No. I’m certain he wasn’t entering into
any type of business with anyone else.”

Kyle feared as much, but hearing Amelia
confirm it made his stomach queasy. God help them all if Tom Drake
had been involved in something illegal or something that was going
to come back and bite Kyle in the throat.

And God help Amelia if he didn’t find an
excuse to get out of the house.

Instead
of going to the mill the next day, Amelia stayed home and prepared
a small plot in the backyard for a vegetable garden. Afterward, she
straightened the house, feeling as if she were cleaning someone
else’s home instead of her own. No matter which room she dusted, or
which chair she sat in, she felt like a nervous guest.

Desperate for the familiar warmth of her
parents’ house, and her mother’s arms, Amelia headed outside. It
took half an hour to have one of the men at the depot rig a phaeton
for her use, but as soon as she was seated, Amelia headed toward
Shumla Road.

The silent darkness of her parents’ home
shocked her, but when she saw her mother sitting in the cavelike
parlor, gazing out of anguish-filled eyes, Amelia panicked. “Mama,
you need to open the drapes and let in some sunshine.”

“I have a headache and it feels better with
them closed.”

It was a heartache her mother was suffering,
but Amelia didn’t blame her mother for wanting to shut out the
world. She felt like doing the same thing. Still, it broke Amelia’s
heart to see her mother filled with grief and hurting so deeply
that she couldn’t bear the sunshine.

Amelia groped for a way to breathe life back
into her mother, and knew that normal conversation wouldn’t do it.
“I think Kyle’s sorry he married me,” she said, and was immediately
rewarded with her mother’s full attention.

“If that young man has done anything to hurt
you—”

“He hasn’t, Mama.” Amelia hid a smile of
satisfaction and sat beside her mother. “It’s just that I don’t
feel at home in our house,” she said truthfully. “I think my unease
makes Kyle uncomfortable, too. But everything in the house belongs
to him. I feel like a guest who has overstayed her welcome.”

Her mother’s eyebrows lifted and she stared
at Amelia. “Has he told you that?”

“Of course not, Mama. I just
feel
that way.” Amelia sighed and smoothed her skirt over her thighs.
“Did you have this trouble learning to live with Papa?”

“No. Neither of us owned a stick of furniture
so whatever we borrowed or acquired always felt like it belonged to
both of us. It took us years to fill our old house, and by that
time we had started to build this one. Everything we’ve had or done
has always been together.”

“Well, how could I feel like that when Kyle
has already furnished the house with beautiful things?”

“Add a few of your own favorite pieces to
what he already has.”

“I don’t have any furniture, Mama. Everything
in my apartment belonged to the school, and it was awful
anyhow.”

“You have those beautiful pillows on your bed
that you embroidered.”

“What difference will a couple of pillows
make?” Amelia asked, feeling more disheartened by the minute. It
was going to take more than pillows and furniture to make a loving
home with Kyle.

“Don’t look so sad, honey. It takes time to
make a home together.”

“I don’t have time, Mama.”

Her mother patted her hand. “You have the
rest of your life.”

“Will you help me?” Amelia clutched her
mother’s hand. “Please. Come home with me and show me how to make a
good home for my husband.”

Before her mother could protest, Amelia stood
up and tugged her toward the stairs. An hour later they were
rearranging the furniture in Amelia’s new home and adding articles
from Amelia’s life that brought her a sense of comfort.

“Put these on your couch.” Her mother tossed
the two embroidered pillows to Amelia. “This afghan will look
beautiful on the back of your rocking chair,” she said, draping it
over the oak spindle back.

“I hope Kyle won’t mind me moving that out of
the corner,” Amelia said, wondering if she’d gone too far by
dragging the big rocker into the grouping of parlor furniture. It
had looked so unappreciated stuck in the corner, as if Kyle had
purposely tried to shove it out of sight.

“You’ll need it to rock the baby.”

“Mama! I haven’t even been married a
week.”

“I know, but you and that handsome young man
of yours will be having children before you know it. This chair is
right where it belongs, and if Kyle tells you differently, you send
him up to talk to me.”

Despite the embarrassing conversation, her
mother’s spunk gave Amelia hope that she would eventually pull
herself out of her depression.

After they finished transforming the house,
they took a break for tea, then Amelia took her mother home. Amelia
hadn’t been back in her own house for more than twenty minutes
before Kyle walked in the door.

He stopped dead, his shocked gaze taking in
the changes that Amelia and her mother had wrought in his
absence.

Suddenly the cozy arrangement of furniture
and the feminine look of her pretty pillows and oval rug seemed
intrusive for a large man used to space.

“I can change it back if you hate it.”

Instead of answering, he continued to note
the changes, the vase of flowers on the coffee table, the shiny oak
coat tree beside the door, the picture of her father hanging
prominently on the parlor wall.

“I’ll just move this back now,” she said,
dragging the rocker toward the corner. “I’ll move the rest after
supper.”

“No!”

Amelia jerked upright at his snapped command,
dreading the outrage she would see in his eyes. But instead of
anger, his expression was filled with apology.

“I should have asked if you wanted to change
things.” He shrugged, his expression sheepish. “Do you need help
moving anything else?”

“Only if you want to move everything back
where it was.”

“This is fine.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded.

“It’ll only take a few minutes—”

“It’s fine, Amelia. Leave it.”

He took off his boots, and they ate supper in
the awkward silence that Amelia despised but was growing used to.
Only tonight she didn’t know if it was Kyle’s normal inability to
converse about the daily details of life or if he was upset that
she’d taken over his home.

“I’m heating water for a bath if you want one
after supper.”

He sighed and laid his fork on the edge of
his plate. “Thanks, but I have to take my shift in the warehouse at
the depot tonight. You go ahead and enjoy the water.” He pushed
away from the table. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Relief swept through Amelia when Kyle headed
for the parlor and put on his boots. She couldn’t bear another
night of his disappointment when they crawled into bed together and
lay stiff and silent beside each other.

But by the fifth night of Kyle’s leaving the
house after supper, claiming it was his turn to keep watch in the
warehouse at the depot, Amelia grew suspicious. Kyle and his
brothers had decided to dry the deck beams for the Hale contract in
the same warehouse they used for drying their railroad beams, but
Amelia wondered if Kyle was using it as an excuse to seek intimate
satisfaction elsewhere.

At four o’clock in the morning, she pushed
open the door to the long wood building and stepped inside, gasping
as the heat hit her in the face. Several feet away a huge cast-iron
stove hummed and crackled. Farther back in the rectangular room a
lantern burned low and illuminated the lone occupant.

To her relief, her husband sat in an
uncomfortable wooden chair sound asleep. He leaned back against a
pile of deck beams, his chin resting on his chest. His feet were
planted on the floor on either side of the raised front chair legs,
his muscled arms locked across his chest, lifting and falling with
each long breath he took.

Despite her relief at finding him alone,
shame filled her for letting her insecurity lead her to wild
conclusions. She should have known Kyle wouldn’t lie to her.
Everything he did was about honor. He’d married her because of his
ingrained sense of honor. Now, his honor was keeping him from
forcing her to consummate their marriage even though she knew he
was aching to do so.

Compassion filled her when she looked at her
exhausted husband hunched in the chair. He should be home sleeping
in his own comfortable bed. Amelia debated whether to wake him,
knowing Kyle probably wouldn’t go home even if she suggested it. He
would just start his day an hour earlier. Deciding he needed his
rest regardless of how poor or uncomfortable it was, Amelia caught
the latch and pulled the door around, but the rusty hinges groaned
and vibrated the thick planks.

She glanced back at Kyle just as the chair
legs hit the floor with a hard thud. He vaulted to his feet, eyes
wild and confused. “What’s wrong?” he asked, as if he expected the
building to fall in on him any second.