NoRegretsColeNC (14 page)

“I want to be a good nurse.” She
breathed a sigh. He’d believed her.

“Nursing is not an easy profession, but
it is a noble one. The world needs more young women like you.”

She didn’t deserve his flattery.
Embarrassed by his kind words, Hattie lowered her gaze. “I’ll go upstairs to my
room, sir. I think I’m ready to sleep now.”

“Yes, indeed. Medical texts can be a
bit tiresome.” He nodded toward the shelves as she stepped away. “In the
future, Hattie, if you have questions on certain topics, you might want to come
to me instead of trying to find the information on your own. Not everything on
the printed page is accurate, you know.”

Hattie thought her heart must have
stopped. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. A haze of guilt and shame swirled
around her. She’d not fooled the good doctor. He knew exactly what she was
about.

“Yes, sir.”
She mumbled the words. “Good night, Dr. Kellerman.” Able to move at last, she
rushed from the library, ran up the stairs, and threw herself onto her bed.

Chapter Ten

Sitting
in the sheriff’s office with the front door opened to let in the breeze, Willie
crossed his hands behind his neck and leaned back. He propped his feet on the
desk. He was no longer working nights. Instead he helped out during the day,
kept an eye on the place when Sheriff Bryant wasn’t there, and looked for ways
to make
himself
useful.
Most of the
time, at least.

At
other times—like now—he liked taking it easy, enjoying whatever came his way.

When he
heard the click-clack of boot heels over the boardwalk, a smile crossed his
face. He knew exactly what was coming his way. More correctly, he knew
who
was coming his way.
Funny how a man could memorize little details like the sound of a
young woman’s walk.
Not any young woman, of course. Hattie Mae.

He
quickly rose and went to the open door to greet her. He hadn’t seen her since
his birthday. As much as he’d wanted to call on her, he wasn’t sure how she
felt about him now…after what had happened between them.

He was
about to find out.

“Hattie,
it’s good to see you.”

“I’ve
got to talk to you,” she said in an odd whisper, her voice hoarse. “Is the
sheriff here? What about Deputy Goddard?”

“Both
at lunch,” Willie told her. “Over at the café. I suspect they’re fighting over
Miss Munro again.”

Hattie
giggled. “It’s plumb pitiful the way that woman leads those two men on.”
Hattie’s face grew serious. “Can we speak privately here?”

“Yes,
of course.”

Although
Willie had been able to clearly recognize Hattie’s familiar footsteps, he
wasn’t able to read her emotions. It left him unsettled.
Worried,
almost.
Whatever she meant to tell him had
an urgency
to it, but also seemed to leave her in a state of breathless excitement.

He
ushered her into the office, watching as she poked her head around the corner
to check the cells. Whatever was stirring, she meant to make absolutely certain
the two of them were completely alone. His apprehension grew.

“What is
it” he asked. “If something’s wrong—”

She
shook her head.
“Not at all.
In
fact, quite the contrary.”
Now, she seemed to grow a bit more relaxed.
She leaned back against Sheriff Bryant’s desk, clasped her hands together, and
smiled. Not her usual prim and proper smile. Oh, no, not at all. This smile was
positively wicked.

Willie
licked his lips.

“What
do you mean?” He choked out the words, his desires for Hattie arousing him
immediately. Hattie could surely see his erection straining against the crotch
of his pants.

“We
don’t have to worry, Willie.” Her eyes glowed like radiant gray orbs. “You
know, about…” Hattie suddenly turned shy. She lowered her gaze. “Consequences,”
she said at last.

“I have
no idea what you’re talking about.”

She
lifted her gaze. The wicked grin was there again. “I’m talking about us.
About…all those things we did together.” Hattie’s eyes fluttered closed for a
moment. Willie wondered if she was recalling the pleasures they’d shared.

“I know
you liked it, Hattie. So did
I
.”

Opening
her eyes again, she nodded. “You’re right. I did like it.
A
lot.
That’s why I went searching for information in Dr. Kellerman’s
medical books. Information about conception,” she explained in a hushed
whisper. “More to the point,” she went on, slipping her arms around him,
“information on how to avoid conception. There are ways.”

“Really?”
Condoms—known as
French preventatives—
were nothing new to
Willie. The girls at the expensive pleasure houses in Denver insisted men wear
them. Hattie must have only now learned of their existence.

There
were other ways, too, of course.
All of them a lot of bother.
The real question was why Hattie was so eagerly coming to him to share this
newfound knowledge.

“I know
what you’re thinking, Willie.” Her breath whispered in his ear as she pressed
closer to him. “I’m not talking about those awful rubber things. There are
better ways.
Easier ways.”

“Go on.
I’m listening.” Indeed. His burgeoning desire for the woman in his arms made it
both more difficult to concentrate and more imperative that he do so.
Reluctantly he released her and stepped back. “What did you find out?”

“The
hospital has an excellent medical library. One of the volumes was written by
Dr. Theodore Bischoff.” Hattie leaned close again. “He’s an authority on contraception.”
When she said the word, she flushed and quickly looked around. Strict obscenity
laws passed a few years earlier made it illegal to even discuss the topic.

“And
what is this method he wrote about?”

“It’s
very simple, really.” Quickly she explained Dr. Bischoff’s research and his
determination that a woman could only conceive on certain days of the month.
“So long as we avoid
those
days…” She
blushed profusely and covered her blazing cheeks with her hands.

“Don’t
be embarrassed, Hattie. This is important to know.”

“Yes,
you’re right.” She dropped her hands to her sides and delivered a forthright,
matter-of-fact, to-the-point look Willie had never seen on her face before. “I
came across another volume, as well. One written by a fellow named Owen. I don’t
know much about him,” she confessed, “but his writing made one point quite
clearly.” She sucked in a breath so deep it made her breasts rise and jut out.
“According to Mr. Owen, whoever he may be, sexual gratification is not
immoral.”

“I
never believed it was.” Willie took hold of Hattie’s hands.

“Do you
think I’m immoral?”

“I
think you’re beautiful, Hattie.” He seized the opportunity and embraced it
fully. “I think you’re a perfectly charming young woman who’s beginning to
realize what she wants from life, and I’m glad to be a part of it. I think
you’re strong, capable, and determined. That’s how I see you.”

“I
liked it, Willie. I want to do it again.”

“And
again…and again.”
He brushed a kiss to her heated cheeks. “You’re sure you know which days are the
right days?” He didn’t think it possible, but her blush deepened.

“I
marked it on my private calendar.”

Releasing
her, Willie stepped back again. He stole another glance at the door. “Sheriff
Bryant will probably be back any minute, so it’s best we keep our distance.” It
would be good, too, if he could lose the erection before the man returned.

“Yes,
of course. I understand.”

Of
course, the redness of her cheeks—along with the obvious bulge in his
trousers—would make it easy for anyone who strolled in to guess there’d been a
bit of hanky-panky between them.

“So,
now we know when, but we’ll have to figure out where.
And
exactly how to arrange it.”
Possibilities were already racing through
his brain. He looked to Hattie.

Before
his eyes, her entire being changed. Gone was any apprehension, replaced by a
brilliant glow of excitement that radiated from her.

“We’re
going to have an affair,” she said, clasping her hands together. “I’ve never
done anything so deliciously dangerous before. It’s all because of you, Willie.
You’ve made me feel alive, you know. You’ve made me believe that my life really
matters.”

“You do
matter, Hattie Mae Richards. Don’t ever forget that.”

She
nodded. “I’d better get out of here. I’d hate to arouse any suspicions. If
Sheriff Bryant catches us alone here, he might figure out what we’re up to.”
She giggled, gave a little wave, and hurried out the door.

Willie
stared after her, his heart soaring. Never in his entire twenty-four years had
he ever seen anyone as bubbling and ecstatic as Hattie had been just now. She’d
helped save
his
life, and in return,
he’d given her a life of her own…and a chance to live it fully.

An
affair.

Get your mind off sex and back
on business
.

He
grabbed one of the law books he’d brought with him and opened it, pretending to
be engrossed in his studies when Caleb came through the door. If he did nothing
else, Willie decided, he’d be damned sure he’d protect Hattie’s reputation.
Nobody would ever know of their affair.

* * *
*

Life
couldn’t get much better. That’s how Willie saw it. As summer continued, so,
too, did his dalliance with Hattie Mae. They met each week on her day off,
spending the long afternoon hours indulging in uninhibited pleasures and
passions. No one knew, of course, which made it all the more thrilling.

What
people did know—and often remarked upon—was how much Willie had changed in the
last few months. Of course, they guessed it to be a result of his accident. In
a way, it was. How odd to think that his most desperate act, his sorrowful attempt
at self-destruction had proved to be his salvation.

“You’ve
got quite a grin on your face there, Willie.”

The
voice brought him from his thoughts. As usual, while he worked pushing the
broom along the boardwalk in front of the sheriff’s office, his mind had been
wandering off toward a little cabin hidden away in the woods, eagerly
anticipating the next liaison with his sultry, gray-eyed lover.

“Oh,
good morning, Mr. Whitmore.”
Willie’s face reddened. Without thinking, he shook the big,
long-handled broom,
then
coughed as a thick cloud of
dust rose up around him. It hung in the air then settled to the earth again, a
good part of it landing on George Whitmore’s well-polished shoes. Willie
winced. “Sorry about that.” He set the broom aside and grabbed a rag from his
back pocket.

“Don’t
worry about it.” Whitmore shot back. “Shoes are meant to touch the ground. A
bit of dirt doesn’t hurt.”

“All
the same, I should have been more careful.”

“I
doubt there’s a man alive who hasn’t said those words a few times.” Whitmore
chuckled. He stared off toward the east where golden rays of sunlight promised
a perfect summer’s day. “We’re only human. We do tend to make mistakes. And
it’s a damned good thing,” he added, bending down to brush the tips of his
shoes. “If every man followed all the laws all of the time, I’d be out of
business, wouldn’t I?”

Willie
nodded. He’d known attorney George Whitmore for many years and respected him
for his honesty and integrity. Unlike Willie’s father, the man valued the law
and prized justice. Never would his name be tainted by claims of corruption or
vice.

“Yes,
sir, I suppose you would.” Willie’s heart felt suddenly heavy. Reminders of his
father still affected him, still made him feel ashamed and embarrassed. “It’s
been nice talking to you, Mr. Whitmore. Have a good day.” Expecting the man to
be on his way, he reached for the broom again, ready to resume his task.

“Not
so fast, Willie.
I wanted to chat with you a moment.” He pointed to the broom, then to the side
of the sheriff’s office. Willie got the message. He set the broom against the
building again.

“Yes?
Chat about what?” Apprehension crawled through his guts like an earthworm
churning up dirt. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Instead, he spat on the
boardwalk—mindful of Whitmore’s shoes this time. He turned his head.

“Your
father—”

Willie
froze. He didn’t want to hear a word about his crooked old man.

“—always
had high hopes for you, Willie. He always figured you’d choose the legal
profession. I doubt he’d be too happy if he knew you were sweeping sidewalks in
this little town.”

His
father’s happiness sure as hell meant nothing to Willie.

Whitmore
kept talking.

“I
remember you once saying you intended to study the law. Of course, you were a
bit younger then. It might be that you’ve changed your mind.” He cleared his
throat, calling Willie’s attention. “Frankly, I doubt that. I think you’d make
a fine lawyer.”

Willie
shook his head and reached for the broom, but Whitmore put a hand on his arm.

“Listen
to me, Willie. Your father did a lot of bad things. You know that. I know that.
Everyone from here to Denver knows that. Nothing can change it. Don’t let his
mistakes stand in the way of your dreams. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Yes, I
have. I stood behind him for a long time. I believed in him. Even when people
came to me and tried to tell me the truth, I wouldn’t listen.” He remembered
countless opportunities he’d allowed to pass by, times when he could have
spoken up or confronted his father with questions. Had he done so, a lot of things
could have turned out differently.