The Stepmother: An Everland Ever After Tale (7 page)

She blinked. “What I said I’d do, Jack. I’m a midwife. I came out here to help women and children.”

“Not in Everland. Not at the Miller place. He’s not the kind of man you want to cross.”

Her chin jutted out, and God help him, he was beginning to love seeing her stubbornness. “I don’t want to cross him. Mrs. Miller is the one who needs my help, and I’m probably the only one in several days’ ride who
can
help her right now.”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with.” He’d met Miller, and hadn’t even wanted to shake the man’s hand. The rancher reminded him of some of the charity snobs he’d met in New York; too high-and-mighty to actually do anything useful with their lives.

Sighing, she tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Are you going to tell me that I can’t help this woman? The whole reason I agreed to marry you, Jack Carpenter, was because I knew you were the one person who
would
let me help!” They were doing a good job of keeping their voices low, but as she got more agitated, she was obviously having trouble remembering that.

He did his best to soothe her, running his hands up and down her arms. It was hard, because he was about as far from settled as she was, but didn’t want her to know. “You’re probably right. You can help her, and you should. But…” He took a deep breath. “It’s not safe. I’ll…” God, why was this so hard? “I’ll go with you.”

To his surprise, she laughed quietly. “I should certainly hope so, Doctor. I need you.” That would’ve been a real nice thing to hear, had they not been talking about…well, what they were talking about. “Your expertise in surgery will be—”

“What? No!” She raised a brow at his furious whisper. “I’m not…” He swallowed past his dry throat, but still couldn’t make his voice work properly. “I’m not…” There’s no way he was going to go
operate
on a pregnant lady. A pregnant lady trying to give birth? No way.

“You’re not what?”

I’m not brave. I’m not educated. I’m not who you think.
But all that came out, in a desperate sort of hiss, was “I’m not a doctor.”

There. He’d admitted it. He’d admitted that he wasn’t who she’d wanted, who she’d been hoping for. All but admitted that he’d spent the last nine years in a hellhole of a prison, doing his best to keep other men alive, with help from a crotchety mentor who’d taught him to read, and as many medical journals as they could beg for.

But she didn’t recoil, didn’t pull away, didn’t even frown. Instead, her expression a perfect combination of pity and admiration, she lifted one hand to his cheek. There, in the middle of Matthews’ Dry Goods, she brushed her bare fingers down his cheek, and he shuddered when he felt her touch clear down to his soul.

“Then don’t help me as Doctor Carpenter, Jack. But help me anyhow. I need you.”

Oh God
, he was lost at that simple plea. With a growl, he pulled her to him, and crushed his lips down on hers. Had he meant to kiss her that day, or any day? Not in the least. He didn’t need the complication in his life.

But once he had a taste of her, he wasn’t going to stop. She whimpered in the back of her throat, and he had to force himself to ease off, to caress instead of crush. Her lips were warm under his, and when they parted slightly on a sigh he flicked his tongue across them, trying to embed her flavor in his memory.

And then she stiffened in his arms, and reality intruded. Remembering where he was—and who he was with—he had to force himself to pull away, to break the kiss. Was it his imagination, or was she breathing as hard as he was? God, he wanted her, wanted to make her his. His fingers dug into her arms, and he cursed himself when she flinched.

Jack knew he should say something, should apologize, and would’ve, if he’d seen any sort of anger or fear in her expression. Instead, her eyes were sort of glazed, like she wasn’t sure what was going on, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But then she blinked, and stepped back, out of his grip. When she flicked her tongue over those reddened lips, he had to look away, stifling a groan. “I’ll tell Mr. Spratt that we’re ready to go, if you’ll talk to Mrs. Matthews about Zelle.” And then she turned and disappeared.

No matter what the next few hours brought, he wasn’t going to be able to forget the way she tasted, or felt in his arms, or sounded when he’d kissed her. Maybe he better sleep in his own bedroom tonight, no matter how cold it might be. A little privacy could be a good thing right now.

It took Jack another long few minutes before he got his breathing—and himself—under control. And then he went to find his princess, and figure out what he’d just gotten himself into.

They ended back up at his house. It wasn’t until the following day that Meri thought to wonder about that; hadn’t she only planned on staying with him until after the storm, at which point she’d stay with someone in town? But already this place felt like home, and it felt
natural
to come back here after their adventure with the Millers. She didn’t think that either of them really considered it; they just came back to town, ate dinner at Spratt’s Eatery, loaded up their supplies and Zelle, and trekked back…back
home
.

It was nice to have a full pantry and icebox. She’d helped Jack pick out the supplies, and knew that she could impress him with some variety to their meals. The ones she’d chosen were simple enough that he could learn; she’d seen his cookbook, and knew that he was trying to cook for himself and Zelle. Even if she didn’t stay with him—and after that kiss, she didn’t know
anything
for sure—she’d be sure that he could cook a few more meals than he could last month.

Meri stopped mid-flapjack-flip, thinking of the way he’d held her the other day in Matthew’s Dry Goods. His hands on her shoulders should’ve been confining, concerning, the way Bernard’s had been… But instead, she’d felt somehow comforted. And then, when he’d kissed her! She blushed, and went back to fixing breakfast, well aware that Jack and his daughter were standing nearby anxiously waiting for the delicious-smelling treats.

That kiss had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Not that she’d had a lot of kisses to compare it to; Bernard’s had been her first, and Lord knew that she didn’t want to remember
that
. But she was a doctor, practically. There
had
to be a medical reason for the way her knees had gone weak and she’d felt heat pooling in her stomach—and lower!—and the little sparks that had ignited on her skin every place he touched. Meri flicked her gaze over at him then, only to catch him staring back. Flustered, she tried not to drop the flapjack.

Over breakfast, she enjoyed watching him relishing the new meal. During the first bite, he closed his eyes when he chewed, and she didn’t think he even realized it. She loved the way he could appreciate something so simple, so easy, and it made her sad to think what his life had been like since his wife died, that he hadn’t enjoyed things like fresh-made flapjacks.

When he opened his eyes and caught her staring, he said only “Thank you.”
Thank you
, like that first day. He was thanking her for making something delicious that he enjoyed, and Meri felt the warmth rising in her chest and neck again. Moments like these, she wanted to vow to stay here and make him delicious treats always, just to make him happy. To receive his thanks.

Zelle, of course, refused to taste the flapjacks. “B’cuts!
B’cuts!
”

“Come on, Princess. Try these things Meri made, you’ll like ‘em. Papa likes them, see?” Jack took another big bite, making convincing “
Mmm!”
noises while he chewed. But the little girl refused to try any, banging her fork against the table and shouting “No!” again and again.

Jack looked so lost that Meri smiled. “I’m sorry you’re not happy, Zelle, but I worked hard on the flapjacks.” She pulled the little girl’s plate towards herself. “I’m not going to make biscuits every morning. We have to have different foods.” Quickly, efficiently, she pulled the dry flapjack into tiny pieces, hoping they’d look like torn-up biscuits.

Pushing the plate in front of the girl again, Meri smiled brightly. Zelle’s adorably perfect little lips pulled down into a pout, and she rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Meri pretended disappointment, sighing hugely, and went back to her own meal. The girl would eat, or she wouldn’t.

To her delight, after a few minutes of silence—during which the adults quietly chewed and exchanged knowing glances—Zelle finally picked up a piece of the breakfast and stuck it in her mouth, still pouting while she chewed. Her father hid his smile behind a glass of water.

Then, before the end of the meal, Jack suddenly put down his fork. “I’m sorry.”

She looked up, confused. “Sorry about what?” About Zelle? The little girl had almost cleaned her plate.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. About being a doctor.”

She smiled slightly and picked at the last of the flapjack on her plate. “Technically, you didn’t. Whoever wrote that advertisement lied
about
you. And as I recall, you told me that you weren’t a doctor, that very first evening.” She’d shown up at his door, asked if he was the doctor, and he’d slammed the door in her face. The first inkling that he was nowhere near the civilized man she’d wanted.

But who did she want now? The civilized man, or the man who struggled to do the right thing, who loved his daughter and accepted his own shortcomings?

“Yeah.” He toyed with his water glass, staring down at it. “I never
claimed
to be a doctor, even. Zelle and I ended up out here after a while with one of the wagon trains, and…” He sighed, and Meri realized that it was the first time she’d heard about his past. So his wife hadn’t died out here? He’d come west with just his daughter. “I helped a few people on the train. Wounds, setting broken bones. Pulling a few teeth, figuring how much laudanum to give, that sort of thing.”

He looked up, met her eyes, and quickly glanced away. Was it on accident that his gaze landed on the shelf of books in the corner? “Mostly things I’d learned from books, and then we got here last fall, and people expected that from me...” She’d known him less than a week, but knew that books were important to him. Knew that, although he struggled to read, he valued the knowledge found within them. He wasn’t a civilized, learned man…but he was trying to be.

In that moment, Meri knew. Knew that he was who she wanted, no matter what other secrets he kept from her. Reaching across the table, she placed her hand on his forearm, and felt the muscles jump under her fingers. Watched him swallow and keep his gaze firmly locked across the room. “I admire that about you, Jack. Even if you didn’t go to medical school, you’re helping people, and that’s what I think is important.”

A quick nod, and then he stood, pulling his arm out from beneath her touch. Her fingers still tingled, but now felt…empty somehow. Picking up his plate, he moved to the basin. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I think that you did wonderfully, yesterday.” They’d arrived at the Millers’ home to find an extremely worried Mrs. Spratt—who was comforted by her husband—and a woman who’d been laboring for almost a full day. Mr. Miller and his two older daughters seemed supremely uninterested in the goings-on, popping their heads in occasionally to demand to know if Mrs. Miller was going to make dinner that night or if they’d have to make it
again
, and if she’d be up to sewing a pinafore tomorrow. Becoming more and more incensed at their callous attitude, Meri finally banned them from the room, and helped Mrs. Miller deliver another fine little blonde-haired girl.

Jack had been there the whole time, fetching and cleaning things that she’d requested. He didn’t even turn away, although Meri could tell that their patient was uncomfortable with a male doctor. It was just another example of how he was always ready to learn something new, and she really admired that about him.

After, she’d lectured Mr. Miller about letting his wife rest, warning that she wasn’t going to recover if he continued to make demands of her, but he seemed unimpressed. The baby—Sibyl—was already being fawned over by her sisters by the time Jack and Meri headed back to town, and she hoped that the other girls would help out around the house, at least. When she’d mentioned that to Jack as they sat on the back of Mr. Spratt’s sleigh, he snorted. Not a positive sign.

And now, rather than acknowledging her compliment, he was washing the dishes. She’d noticed that he wasn’t comfortable with praise, and either turned it away or ignored it, and she wondered why. But she couldn’t deny that she liked the fact that he didn’t expect her to do all of the domestic chores; she’d been taught to do them as a girl, but during her years of medical school she hired out most of the work anyhow. It was surprisingly egalitarian to meet a man who split the housework with her. She supposed it was because he’d done it all by himself for so long, but at least he wasn’t expecting his wife—

Meri sighed. Jack didn’t want a wife.
He didn’t send those advertisements, remember
? So why was he still putting up with her? How come he hadn’t thought anything of trekking back here with her after their adventure in town? Why was this—this cooking breakfast for him, and helping him clean after—beginning to feel normal?

By noon, Zelle had fallen apart three more times, over silly things. Meri knew that two-and-a-half-year-olds were liable to throw tantrums over the littlest things, but this was getting ridiculous. So, after a heavy meal and a nap, she woke the little girl up and began to dress her in her jacket and mittens.

“What are you doing?” Jack was in the corner, doing a sort of vigorous callisthenic exercise. He did it twice a day, in between studying his books, and Meri hadn’t asked about it yet. She supposed, though, that a man who didn’t farm or ranch or produce anything—because he had enough money to buy all of his supplies in town—would need some sort of exercise to stay healthy. And probably to keep from getting too antsy, being indoors all the time.

Which was exactly what his daughter’s problem was. “I’m taking Zelle outside to play.”

“’Side?” The little girl was hopping around while Meri knelt to put on her boots. Zelle’s excitement was palpable.

“You’re—” a break, while Jack finished his exercise and rolled to his feet, “
playing
outside?”

“Yes.” Finished with Zelle, Meri hurried to pull on her own winter wear before the little girl tried to rush outside all by herself. “We’re all sick of being cooped up inside here.” She saw his look of surprise when he glanced around the room. Did he not realize how odd it was, to stay inside all day, in this small cabin? “So we’re going outside for some fun.”

“Fun?”

He was beginning to sound like a parrot. “Yes!” she snapped, and then settled her bonnet into place. When she opened the door, the draft made the fire in the hearth flicker, but it was a crisp, clear February afternoon out there, and she was going to enjoy it. “When you’ve gotten over your surprise, do put on your coat and come join us.”

He did. Meri was still trying to coax Zelle into touching the snow with her gloved hands, when Jack pushed his way out of the door. The snow around the front of the house was tamped down, but they’d moved towards the side, where there was still plenty to play in. Zelle seemed hesitant, her little pink tongue pushed between her lips and her pigtails—were they longer already?—peeking out from under her bonnet. Meri chuckled at her hesitation, and decided to show her how it was done.

Scooping up a handful of the snow, she showed the girl how to pack it lightly. Jack’s hands were deep in his pockets, and the snowball splatted against his chest. He looked down in confusion as his daughter erupted in giggles, and immediately started to make her own snowball. Meri helped the girl, and soon the poor man was being bombarded with snow—balled and loose. But he just looked confused. Like he didn’t know what to do.

Floundering in the knee-deep snow, Meri moved to him, still laughing. He was trying to brush himself off, and looked ridiculous doing it. Just before reaching him, she stumbled, and he caught her around her upper arms to steady her. She sucked in a breath of the cold air, and met his lovely blue eyes. “Come play with us.” It was all she could think to say.

“I don’t know how.”

The confession, humble and heartbreaking, tugged at Meri. She smiled, thinking how much she admired his honestly. “I’ll show you.” Taking his arm, pulling him towards his daughter, showing them all how to plop down in the snow and push it together to form walls and people. Showing them how the snow exploded into poofs when they threw it into the air, or at the side of the house. Showing them how to laugh and enjoy the outdoors, even when in the winter.

She’d played in the snow with neighbors and friends often enough as a child. This was the first time in a long while that she’d allowed herself to have fun again, though, and supposed it was because of Zelle. She wanted the girl to have these same experiences.