The Longing (20 page)

Amelia was suddenly terrified to hear them.
She jerked to her feet and glanced at the door. “I heard a shout
outside. It’s probably your crew arriving.” She didn’t want to hear
his confession and lose her respect for her husband. Other than her
attraction to Kyle, that’s all she had to hold on to.

He caught her hand, his expression filled
with angst. “I need to tell you something.”

She stepped back, sensing that whatever he
wanted to confess was going to hurt both of them. “Your crew is
arriving, and I don’t want to start a conversation we can’t
finish.” She backed toward the door. “I’m going home to get your
breakfast ready.”

Later
that day, Amelia closed her father’s journal and rubbed her eyes.
She’d spent hours in the office at the lumberyard looking for
errors, but her father’s books were accurate. The mill was earning
a profit, just as Kyle had suspected. It wasn’t much, but it had
been enough to keep the mill operating without the need to mortgage
anything. So where could he possibly have been spending his
money?

Amelia rubbed her temples, her bleary gaze
resting on the contents of the open desk drawer while she racked
her brain for ideas. Not only did she want to know for her own
peace of mind, but she wanted to find the answer for Kyle, to feel
proud that she’d helped him.

She dug out the dry ink bottle that had kept
the drawer from closing, but before shutting it, she ran her finger
across several old writing utensils her father had used at one time
or another. “What did you do with your money, Papa?” she asked,
longing to hear him answer, to hear the sound of his voice, which
she missed so deeply.

Something shiny peeked from beneath the pens
and she dug out a coinlike object. It was an engraved, flat piece
of mother-of-pearl. She flipped it over and studied it from several
different angles in order to read the inscription.
TLD
was
engraved on the back side.
Thomas L. Drake
? That didn’t
make sense. Her father’s middle name was Reginald, so why would he
have an l stuck between his initials?

Amelia dug through the drawer and found two
more pieces, but they were more worn than the first piece she’d
discovered.

The office door swung open and she glanced
up, hoping Kyle or Jeb or whoever was coming in the door would know
what the odd pieces were and what the l stood for.

To her amazement, her mother stepped inside,
her expression tentative as she scanned the office. Her gaze
lingered on a ragged old flannel jacket that Amelia’s father had
worn. It was lying across the top of a file cabinet now because
Amelia couldn’t bear to throw it away. Her mother hugged her arms
across her stomach, her eyes filled with pain. “Please tell me
there is something here that I can help you with. I can’t spend
another minute alone in that house.”

“Oh, Mama.” Amelia slipped the
mother-of-pearl pieces into her shirt pocket and hurried to her
mother’s side, ashamed that she hadn’t been spending more time with
her. “I’m sorry. I haven’t considered how miserable you must be at
home.”

“I didn’t come here to make you feel bad. I
just need something to do. I can’t stand being alone any longer.”
The dispirited expression on her mother’s face broke Amelia’s
heart. Although she couldn’t think of a single thing her mother
could do, Amelia vowed to find some type of project for her.

“Come on, Mama. Let’s make a cup of tea and
visit a while.” She took her mother to the mess hall and put the
kettle on the stove. “Look in the pantry and see if there's any
flour and brown sugar,” Amelia instructed as she took baking tins
from the cupboard. “I'm going to make a batch of oat streusel to go
with our tea. I’m starving and in no mood for Shorty’s
cooking.”

“Your father said the man’s a terrible
cook.”

“He is,” Amelia said with a laugh. “But he
tries.” She dragged out a cookbook and smiled when her mother
looked over her shoulder.

“So this is how Elizabeth has known how to
make all those wonderful dishes for us. I thought she was a
brilliant cook and now I find out she's been cheating all these
years.”

“Everyone uses a cookbook if they don't know
how to make something. I used one all the time when I lived in my
apartment.”

“I guess I hadn’t considered that.” Her
mother took the spoon from Amelia’s hand. “Let me do this.” She
read the recipe directions, measured the ingredients, then stirred
the mix. After a few minutes of silence, she glanced at Amelia.
“Were you unhappy being a teacher?”

“No,” Amelia said truthfully. She’d been
worlds beyond unhappy, but she would never confess that to her
mother.

“I always wondered why you never married
Richard. You seemed quite taken with him.”

Amelia looked away from her mother’s probing
stare. “Richard had to go back to college.”

“Probably a good thing he did,” she said,
scraping the mixture into two baking pans. “You were too infatuated
with that boy. He would have hurt you, honey.” She shrugged. “There
are some men you just can’t depend on. Is that ready to go in the
oven now?”

Glad to change the subject, Amelia checked
the fire that the men had started earlier then told her mother to
put in both pans. She poured two cups of tea and they sat at the
table while the streusel was baking.

Her mother cradled the cup between her palms
and sipped for a few minutes, then she sighed and cast a hopeless
look at Amelia. “I’ve been trying to think of ways to help you and
Kyle, but I have no skills that would earn us a single dollar. How
on earth am I ever going to be anything but a burden to you?”

“You don’t need to do anything, Mama. Kyle
and I can manage alone.”

Her mother inspected the utensils on the
wall, then gazed at the line of cookbooks on the shelf. “I've spent
my life trying to make a good home for you and your father. I
thought that meant having pretty chandeliers and parquet floors,
hosting dinner parties and church meetings.” She raised her gaze to
Amelia. “I didn't know I was supposed to teach my daughter to cook
and help my husband with his business.”

“Papa wouldn’t have wanted you here. I think
he felt guilty for spending so much time at the mill these past few
years and that’s why he showered you with gifts all the time.”

Her mother’s nostrils flared and she pushed
away from the table. “I didn’t need those gifts, Amelia. I would
have rather he spent time with me.” She stood up and put her cup in
the sink with a clunk. “You said the streusel would be done in
thirty minutes. Should we check it now?”

Her mother’s sudden withdrawal made Amelia
wonder if there had been something painful between her parents that
they had kept to themselves. She didn’t know two people who’d been
more in love with each other, but there was honest pain in her
mother’s eyes when she turned back to face Amelia. “Why did Richard
come to your wedding?”

Amelia flinched in surprise. “He’s been
friends with Kyle for years.”

“No man would look at his friend’s bride the
way that boy was looking at you, Amelia. Mark my words. Whatever
you two started before he went back to school, he’s looking to
finish.”

“Then he’s too late, Mama. I’m married to
Kyle now.”

“You remember that when Richard conveniently
forgets that fact.”

Insulted, but unwilling to argue with her
mother, Amelia bit her lip and removed the streusel. Any
protestations or denials would only make her look suspect. She set
the pans on the counter to cool.

“Honey.” Her mother rubbed her palm across
Amelia’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to offend you. I know it’s hard
to let go of your first love, but Kyle’s a good man and he deserves
your loyalty.”

“He’s my husband, Mama. Of course he’ll have
my loyalty. I’m long past my infatuation with Richard,” Amelia
said, knowing she meant it.

“I hope so.” She picked up the knife and
pointed toward the streusel. “Can I cut that now?”

Before Amelia could answer, Shorty and the
crew of nine men came pounding through the door. “What smells so
good?” Willie asked, sniffing his way to the counter. Every eye in
the room focused on the streusel as the men sought the source of
the delicious aroma.

Amelia’s gaze swung back to the open doorway
where Kyle stood frowning. God in heaven, why couldn’t the man
smile more often? If it was the only thing she succeeded in
changing about their relationship, she was going to teach him how
to laugh.

“What’s going on?” he asked, shifting his
gaze between Amelia and her mother as if he’d caught them stealing
the silverware.

Amelia straightened her shoulders and took a
step closer to her mother. She needed to be here as much as Amelia
did. “Mama made dessert for everyone,” Amelia said, loving the way
her mother’s chin lifted a notch.

The men backhanded their mouths, but Kyle
didn’t budge from the doorway. To Amelia’s surprise, her mother
propped a fist on her hip and faced Kyle. “Quit frowning at me,
young man, and sit down or you’re not getting a slice of this
streusel.”

As if her mother had crossed the room and
pinched him, Kyle instantly blinked the frown off his face.
“Sorry,” he said, then to Amelia’s surprise, he took a seat at the
table with the rest of the crew.

The instant they got their plates, the
streusel disappeared amid profuse groans of pleasure. It was then
that Amelia discovered how to make grown men grovel. Just give them
sex or food and they were happy. How pathetic.

As if to confirm her thought, Jeb finished
his slice and rubbed his stomach. “That was great, Victoria. It’s a
nice change from Shorty's gruel.”

Shorty glared at Jeb, but her mother smiled,
her eyes reflecting a new sense of pride that Amelia had never
before seen.

“Mama’s going to help Shorty with the
cooking,” Amelia announced, then linked her fingers in front of her
hips, trying to look confident in the face of her mother’s surprise
and Kyle’s scowl.

Shorty glanced at Kyle, his expression
outraged. “What’s she talking about?”

Amelia’s stomach churned in the face of
Kyle’s authority, but she refused to back down. “With Mama’s help,
Shorty will be able to spend more time in the yard where you need
him. If that doesn’t make sense to you, then I’m sure Mama can find
more pleasurable pursuits to fill her time than helping us.”

Instantly, Kyle’s eyes scanned the number of
bodies circled around the table and Amelia knew she’d won. Even
though Kyle could depend on Boyd to run the depot, Kyle had his
hands full with the lumberyard. No matter how much Kyle disliked
the idea of having women at his mill, he needed every man he had
out in the yard.

Amelia
prayed Catherine wouldn’t notice her trembling as they exchanged a
hug in the parlor, but to her surprise, Catherine felt just as
tense.

“You look lovely, Amelia.” Catherine smiled,
and Amelia felt anything but lovely. In a word, Catherine was
beautiful. All the Clark girls were gorgeous, but they were also
genuinely kind and loving so it was difficult to hate them for
being so pretty. Still, Amelia wished she was wearing something
more attractive than her black mourning dress.

She glanced at Kyle and Richard, who had just
exchanged a handshake. That they were pleased to see each other was
obvious in their beaming expressions.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Amelia said, groping
for a suitable way to greet Richard.

“I’m famished. Catherine fairly starves me.”
Richard cast a teasing smile at his stepmother, who flushed and
lowered her lashes. He laughed and gave her a side-armed hug, then
turned back to Amelia. “You do look lovely this evening,” he said,
then to her chagrin, he pressed his lips to the back of her
hand.

Amelia summoned a believable smile, but
tugged her fingers from Richard’s grasp. “Thank you. Why don’t you
and Kyle relax in the parlor while I get beverages for
everyone?”

“I’ll help you,” Catherine said, latching on
to Amelia’s arm as if desperate to escape the men.

Amelia had thought Catherine’s presence would
lessen the tension, but to her surprise it actually made the
situation worse. Catherine had been different since she’d married
Alfred Cameron. Before the marriage, when she still lived with her
parents, Catherine had been happier, more talkative, and though
Amelia had gone to their house to visit Lucinda, she’d enjoyed the
teasing that went on between the four sisters. Catherine was still
friendly, but her eyes were full of heartache and secrets now.

The instant they stepped into the kitchen
Catherine gasped. “This is splendid!”

Amelia smiled, knowing her first reaction had
been similar. “Kyle and his brothers built the house,” she said,
then conveyed the details while pouring ale for the men and tea for
herself and Catherine.

To Amelia’s relief, they shared an amiable
drink in the parlor, then brought their light conversation to the
table with them, which seemed to calm Catherine’s unease and her
own as well.

Kyle and Richard headed toward the beer
barrel in the pantry for the third time. Amelia and Catherine
exchanged a glance, then flinched when a loud burst of laughter
came from the pantry. Kyle and Richard came back out with grins on
their faces and proceeded to wash down their supper with several
mugs of ale.

“How many times did we fall from that vine
before your father cut it down?” Richard asked, his face alight
with laughter.

Kyle snorted, his own face flushed, his eyes
alive with humor that mesmerized Amelia. She’d never seen him like
this, almost boyish in his enthusiasm. Richard and Kyle were
talking about a thick, wild grapevine that they had used to swing
out over the gorge and drop several feet into the water. Apparently
it didn’t always make a full arc over the water, and whoever had
taken the ride would come crashing back into the bank they had just
jumped from.