His Mountain Miss (Smoky Mountain Matches) (19 page)

He’d somehow missed his arrival. “All right.”

* * *

Lucian appeared lost in his own world, raw anguish swirling in the brown-black depths. Megan urged him outside. In deep conversation beside the door, Owen and Doc didn’t pay them any mind. Her fingers threaded through his, she continued walking until they were well away from the cabin. Unfortunately, she didn’t notice the graves until too late. When she attempted to change direction, Lucian resisted, his gaze riveted to the wooden crosses.

Pale beneath his tan, his earlier confidence was gone. Seeing Sarah like that had affected her, as well, but she sensed something more was going on with him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Death.”

“This isn’t just about Sarah, is it?”

He took a shuddering breath. “For so long, I’ve tried not to think about my mother’s last days. To avoid thinking about her, period. Seeing that little girl in there...” His voice grew thick with emotion and he couldn’t finish.

Her own throat knotting with tears, she placed a palm against his cool cheek. “And it brought it all back?”

His bleak gaze clinging to hers, he nodded.

“When my father died, I was in shock for days. Weeks, even. Slowly but surely, it sank in that he was never coming back. His presence was everywhere. His hat hanging on the coat rack. His shoes by the door. My first reaction was to try to avoid the memories and, in so doing, avoid the pain of his absence. But you know what I eventually realized? That by not talking about him, by refusing to even
think
about him, I was discounting his importance in my life. I was dishonoring the man that he was. And I thought, is this what I want after I’m gone? For my loved ones to pretend I never existed? That I never
mattered?
Of course not.

“Lucian, the memories will get easier to bear. And, although you might not think so now, they will eventually bring you comfort. You must allow yourself to grieve.”

Trembling, he pulled her into his arms, hugged her as if he might never let go. She felt him struggling to release his sorrow, knew that it was difficult for some men to cry because they saw it as a weakness. Praying silently, she rubbed his back and simply held him.

Because she loved him, his sorrow made her own heart ache. Her utmost desire was to be there always for him, to comfort him when life got hard and rejoice with him in the good times. But he wasn’t prepared to accept her in his life. All she could do was be here for him now.

Later, after he’d gone, she’d deal with the grief. Not hide from it.

When he pulled away, he turned his back, dashing the moisture from his cheeks. “I miss her. But I’m angry at her, too, and that makes me feel incredibly guilty.”

“That’s to be expected, considering the circumstances.”

He faced her once more, his manner subdued. “Understanding why she did it doesn’t make it easier to accept. I wish my grandfather had forced the issue. She couldn’t have very well turned him away if he’d shown up on our doorstep.”

“Look at what happened the first time he tried to force his will upon her. Perhaps Charles was afraid if he did that, he’d lose all connection with her. With you.”

His brow knotted with regret, and he jerked a nod.

“You’ll work through this. God will help you.” She touched his hand and, because she didn’t know what else to say, she asked, “Would you like to pray with me for Sarah?”

“Yes, I would.” He inhaled, absently rubbing his cast. “But I’ve never prayed out loud with anyone before.” His dark eyes were cautious, unsure, which was completely unlike him.

Taking his hand again, she suggested, “You could pray silently while I pray aloud.”

“No,” he said with brows lowered. “I’d like to try. After you, of course.”

Bowing her head, Megan prayed for Sarah’s healing, comfort for Owen and wisdom for the doctor. Lucian’s prayer was short and direct. Hearing him petition God, when weeks earlier he’d questioned His love and care, brought tears of joy to her eyes.

“We should probably go.” She sniffed, released his hand. “Doc is still in there. I don’t want to be in the way.”

“I agree.”

Megan quickly let Owen know they were leaving. When they reached her place, she insisted she didn’t need help getting down. He stayed seated, his gaze tracking her every move. She wished he would jump down from there and take her in his arms and tell her he was wrong. About love. About her.

“Thank you, Megan. For everything.”

She nodded, unable to regret any of it. Meeting him. Loving him. “Good night, Lucian.”

Looking resigned, he signaled the team to head out. She watched him go, something inside telling her his time here was short. He would leave. Soon. And she would have to find a way to live without him.

Chapter Twenty

“M
egan.” Tom looked at once surprised and pleased to find her on his doorstep. “Would you like to come in?”

“That’s all right,” she declined, determined to keep this visit short. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure.” Leaning sideways to grab his hat from a knob inside the door, he settled it on his head and closed the door behind him. Taking her arm, he led her to the single maple tree in the corner of the yard, its leafy bower providing much-needed shade. He tipped the brim up. “Any word on Sarah Livingston?”

“If anything, she’s worse. I went there this afternoon to drop off some food for Owen, and she was thrashing about, her fever holding firm.” At the memory, Megan’s stomach hardened into a tight ball. She’d stayed only long enough to give him the food—and for him to mention that Lucian had stopped by in the early morning.

Frowning, he toed a stick with his boot. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Megan forced her mind to the task at hand. Her spirits were already low. Better get this over with before she lost her nerve.

Reaching into her reticule, she withdrew the ring. Held it out to him. “I want you to take the ring back, Tom.”

His green gaze zeroed in on the ring, then lifted to her face in confusion. He made no move to accept it. “I thought you agreed to wait. To take some time—”

“Time isn’t going to change my answer. I’m sorry, I—” she broke off, hating the dawning hurt spreading across his kind face. But stretching this out wouldn’t make it hurt any less. She squared her shoulders. “I can’t marry you.”

With a sharp breath, he reluctantly took the ring from her nerveless fingers and tucked it in his pocket. “Has he changed his mind about marrying you, then?” he asked without rancor. Pain-filled eyes met hers.

“No.”
This is so hard, God. All of it. Lucian. Tom. Sarah. When will it stop hurting?

“I don’t understand.”

“I will marry for love or not at all. Friendship isn’t enough for me. Can you understand that?”

“I understand that I love you,” he pushed out. “And...you don’t love me.”

She touched his arm, and he flinched. “Oh, Tom, I love you like a brother. You’re a dear friend. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth.”

Gaze riveted to the ground, he merely nodded.

“I hope we can still be friends.”

“I’ll need some space. Time to move past this.”

“I understand.” Megan felt like weeping. Felt vile for wounding him. “I have to go now, Tom. Nicole and Jane are expecting me home in time for supper.”

“Tell them hello for me, will you?”

“I will.”

Turning on her heel, she walked quickly through the grass and untethered Mr. Knightley. In the saddle, she chanced a glance at where he stood. Tom waved. Gulping back emotion, she waved and headed down the lane.

At home, Jane was waiting for her in the barn.

“I thought you’d be inside fixing supper.” Megan dismounted, shot her a questioning glance.

“You turned him down, didn’t you?” Her chest heaved, auburn hair wild about her shoulders. “You hurt him,” she accused, eyes blazing.

Megan stilled, stunned by her normally even-keeled sister’s outburst. “I gave him back his ring, yes.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She angrily scrubbed it away. “I don’t understand how you could do that. Tom is a wonderful man! He deserves someone who will appreciate him.”

“Someone like you?” Megan prodded gently.

Her eyes widened. Face crumpled. The tears began to flow in earnest, and Megan’s already heavy heart splintered into a dozen pieces. Putting her arms around her sister, she stroked her hair as she cried against her shoulder. “Shh. It’s going to be okay.”

Oh, Mama, I wish you were here. You’d know exactly what to say to make her feel better.

When Jane pulled away, she rubbed at the moisture on her cheeks. Sniffed. “I’m afraid Tom will never see me as anything more than a pesky little sister.”

“Maybe that’s because of the age difference,” Megan pointed out as delicately as she could. “He’s twenty-two. You’re fifteen.”

“Almost sixteen,” she protested. “Besides, lots of girls get married at sixteen.”

“I don’t know about
lots,
but you’re right, there are some girls who do marry young. But I know Mama would prefer you wait a few years. Maybe when you’re eighteen.”

“But that’s two years away,” she wailed. “Tom will have found someone else to marry by then!”

“Maybe not. If Tom is the man God has picked out for you, it’ll work out.”

“And what if he never gets over you?”

Megan closed her eyes and sighed, thinking of her love for Lucian. A love she’d never get over. “I pray that isn’t the case,” she said fervently.

“I know you love Lucian. Does he...?”

“No.”

Jane sighed, took Megan’s hands. “I’m sorry. I know how much that hurts.”

Megan looked into her sister’s face full of sympathy. “You’re not angry with me?”

“No, not angry. I admit to being jealous. I—I’ve wished it was me Tom was pursuing instead of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I still love you.” She managed a watery smile.

Megan tenderly brushed Jane’s hair behind her shoulder. “I love you, too. I always will, no matter what happens.”

“I suppose I should go inside and help Nicole with supper before she scorches it,” she said with a grimace.

“Or burns down the cabin,” she agreed. “I’ll be inside as soon as I get Mr. Knightley squared away.”

Megan watched her sister go, wishing she’d seen the evidence of her feelings much sooner. If she’d been aware, she could’ve been more sensitive in her handling of the situation.

* * *

Crouched in the garden picking tomatoes the next morning, Megan lifted her head at the sound of wagon wheels creaking over hard earth. Wiping the perspiration from her brow, she shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted. Lucian’s unmistakable form came into view. Her pulse leaped.

Placing a tomato into the basket beside her feet, she stood and dislodged the dirt from her hands. He spotted her advancing along the row and lifted his hand in greeting. Why was he here?

Bounding to the ground, he came around to greet her, sweeping off his black bowler. He’d left off wearing his sling entirely.

“I was in town just now and noticed Doc heading in the direction of the Livingstons’ place. I thought perhaps we should go out there in case there’s been a change.” His intense gaze swept her dusty dress, the rogue curls escaping the ribbon at her nape. “Owen might have need of some company. Do you have time now?”

“Sure. Give me a moment to take my basket inside and change. Would you like to come in for a glass of lemonade or tea?”

“
Non, merci.
Why don’t you go on in and I’ll retrieve your basket?”

“You don’t have to do that.” She glanced at his spotless boots, his formal clothes in shades of blue that made his skin glow with vibrancy.

The barest of smiles tilted his lips. “I don’t mind.”

“If you say so.” She self-consciously brushed at the dirt on her apron. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,
mon chou.
”

Little pastry. The familiar nickname triggered a smile. As observant as he was, had he noticed her discomfiture? Was the endearment a subtle way of telling her that, despite her untidy appearance, she was still attractive to him?

Right, Megan. Now you’re being fanciful.

Inside, she hurriedly explained to her sisters that Lucian was taking her to check on Sarah.

Jane had her hands buried in bread dough. “Tell Owen we’re still praying.”

Nicole looked up from her sewing. “Do you think she’ll pull through this?”

“I hope so.” Megan hadn’t stopped thinking about the little girl these past three days. She’d tried to stay positive, but doubts had crept in at times. “I’ll give you a full report when we return.”

Once she’d washed her hands and face, tidied her hair and changed into her apricot-hued dress, she descended the stairs to find Lucian in the living room chatting with Nicole. He’d delivered her basket to Jane in the kitchen. Spying her, he stood, his gaze lighting with appreciation.

“All ready to go?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Yes.”

Bidding her sisters goodbye, he held the door for her and joined her on the porch. They walked side by side to the wagon, where she paused to regard him with open scrutiny.

“Owen mentioned you paid them a visit yesterday morning.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You went alone.”

His brow wrinkled in confusion, he rocked back on his heels. “I did.”

Must she spell it out for him? “Why didn’t you just follow Doc? Why come and get me?”

Understanding dawned. His mouth twisted. “Because it was so much easier with you.”

“Oh.” He’d basically confessed to needing her. Satisfaction—futile though it was—spiraled through her. “I see.”

She frowned. Since when had she started talking like him?

“Sarah wasn’t doing so well when I was there.” He gave her a hand up and walked around to the other side, using his uninjured hand to lever himself up. The narrow seat shifted with his weight. He angled his face towards hers, his eyes shadowed by the hat’s brim. “How was she when you stopped by?”

“Not good. I didn’t stay long.” A lump formed in her throat as she recalled Sarah, soaked with sweat and thrashing about in delirium, and Owen, looking slightly desperate.

With a grim nod, he set the wagon in motion.

Father God, please prepare us for what we might encounter. Give us the strength, the words to comfort Owen. Above all, help us to accept Your will in this matter.

Needing a connection with Lucian, Megan wove her hand beneath his arm, fingers curled about his biceps. He sent her a sidelong glance fraught with concern. He was worried, too.

The horses seemed to be traveling at a slower rate of speed than usual, the lane stretching endlessly before them. When at last they reached the turnoff, Megan tensed.

Doc’s wagon was still there. Lucian covered her hand with his own, a comforting weight. “Are you ready?”

“I am.”

He helped her down, his hand a constant pressure at the small of her back. A physical reminder of his support. Before he could raise his hand to knock, the door swung open and Owen stood in the doorway. Her breath stalled. Beneath his scruffiness, relief softened his features.

“Owen?”

“She’s going to be okay,” he said firmly, as if still trying to absorb what he was saying. “Her fever broke this morning just after dawn. Doc’s checking her over.”

Lucian rubbed her back in a soothing manner. “You’re certain she’ll be all right?”

Despite his exhaustion, Owen managed to look like a man reborn. “Come on in and see for yourself.”

Moving out of the way, he went to stand beside the fireplace, his weight supported by the rough-hewn mantel. Doc’s broad shoulders blocked their view. After a moment, he snapped his bag closed and edged to the foot of the bed.

“Miss Megan. Mr. Lucian.” Propped up with a mound of pillows, Sarah’s weak voice couldn’t disguise her delight. While her blond hair was a tangled mess, she was wearing a fresh nightgown. “Did you bring me another present?”

Megan chuckled. Lucian shot her a glance, smiled broadly. Sarah was going to be fine. Just fine.

* * *

The majority of Gatlinburg’s residents turned out Friday night for story time. Word of his departure had traveled like wildfire through the small town, and here they all were to bid him farewell. A sort of going-away party.

Mrs. Calhoun had outdone herself. In anticipation of the crowd, she decided to set up the refreshments in the dining room. This week she’d engaged in a baking frenzy. Cakes, pies and pastries occupied every flat surface in sight. He’d been sent to Clawson’s twice for extra sugar.... No telling what kind of effect all this bounty would have on the kids.

Funny, he believed he was actually going to miss the little creatures.

He would definitely miss Megan’s costumes.

He studied her over the rim of his cup. Dressed like a true cowgirl, complete with hip holster and boots with silver spurs, she stood in the archway between the kitchen and dining room. Her pale curls, restrained with a leather strip, glistened in light thrown off by the wall sconces. Cradled against her shoulder was a cherub-faced infant who strongly resembled her mother, a friend of Megan’s named Rachel Prescott. The father, Cole Prescott, was playing a game with the infant, tickling her beneath the chin and making her giggle with delight.

Megan caught him staring. Her wistful smile made his gut clench with regret.

A hand clapped him on the back then, and he nearly spilled his drink. Nathan chuckled beside him. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Beaumont.”

“That’s quite all right.”

Those unreadable silver eyes studied him. “It’s true, then? You’re leaving us Monday?”

“I mean to get an early start.” He willed his gaze not to stray to Megan. Nathan would surely notice. Had he witnessed her sad smile?

Nathan took a drink of steaming coffee, shifted to let two young men pass by. “Do you plan on coming back for a visit sometime?”

Not likely. How could he when Megan was sure to be happily ensconced in married life? “I don’t know.”

He nodded, considering, and glanced at Megan across the way. “We all appreciate your kindness in leaving the house in Megan’s care. You don’t have to worry. She won’t violate your trust.”

“I know that.”

If Nathan noted the hint of melancholy in Lucian’s voice, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he carefully surveyed the crush of people, lazily observing, “I’m surprised Tom Leighton didn’t show up.”

“It wouldn’t be hard to miss him in this crowd.” He’d been on the lookout for him since the night’s beginning, dreading the encounter, seeing him claim Megan as his own.

“I don’t think so. If he was here, he’d be at Megan’s side.” He grew thoughtful. “I stopped by his shop today for a trim. He was tight-lipped, not at all like his usual happy-go-lucky self.”

Unable to stop himself, Lucian directed his gaze at Megan once more. Had something happened? Had they quarreled? Or was his absence totally unrelated to her?