Spirit of the Valley

It was his turn to feel speechless. “I'm glad to do it.”

“I know this is unusual,” she said breathily. “You may think me terrible for asking.”

“I won't,” he said quickly.

“It's just that I've been dead in a lot of ways for a long time now,” she said quietly. “I think . . .” Her gaze dropped to his lips. “I'd like to remember, or maybe to know, what a kiss feels like.”

A
kiss
? He wondered if he really knew how to kiss. He'd bedded a lot of women, but a kiss? And she wanted to know what it felt like from him? “I'm not sure I'm any good at it,” he admitted.

She shrugged delicately and he felt moved, almost shaken by her vulnerability. He leaned forward slowly and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her lips were soft and warm, a perfect fit for his. So this was how a kiss was supposed to feel. He hadn't known it was so sweet a thing. He pulled back slightly. “I think that's how it's done,” he said softly.

“I like it,” she whispered.

“I liked it, too.” She rose gracefully and started from the room. She turned back to him briefly at the door, and she was so beautiful, she stole his breath.

“Good night,” she said.

“'Night,” he echoed. He stared at the door long after she'd shut it. He could still smell her soft scent and feel her presence. It was good. It was so much better than being alone.

 

 

SPIRIT O
F
T
HE
VALLEY

JANE SHOUP

ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

Prologue

 

Sixteen-year-old Jenny Lynn Sheffield cringed at the sound of the corncob bed as she sat on the edge. The bed was probably a hundred years old, and how many people had lain there was impossible to know, but now she would be added to the list. Unless she stopped things right now. Her fists tightened as she stared at the tattered curtain in the window of the long-abandoned cabin. It fluttered from a breeze she couldn't feel. Why couldn't she feel it?

Ted had begun undressing. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't do this. “I'm sorry,” she stammered as she stood again on legs so weak they barely supported her. “I . . . I can't.” She felt stiff as a board. Even her mouth wouldn't work right.

Ted looked perturbed as he stood there, his shirt partly unbuttoned, his suspenders dangling at his sides. “You promised.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I thought I could,” she said brokenly.

“You said you loved me,” he said accusingly.

“I do, but—”

“Said you wanted to marry me.”

She exhaled in exasperation. She'd never said one thing to him that wasn't true, not about her feelings.

“What?” he demanded. “I mean, you promised, and you want to marry me.”

“It just . . . it feels wrong,” she said weakly.

His expression softened. “How can it be wrong if I think it's right? We love each other and you want to be my wife. Right? So show me.”

This wasn't an argument she could win, but nor was losing her virginity at this moment something she could do, no matter what she'd thought. It wasn't fair. She did want to marry him, but why couldn't they wait? Why did it have to be now?

He walked over to her, tipped her chin up with his finger and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “Look. I know you're scared,” he said soothingly.

She desperately sought words that would make him understand; but he didn't understand, because he reached out and untied the ribbon at the base of her long, dark braid and began to undo it in his fingers. Did he still think it was happening? “Ted,” she pleaded.

“No, listen,” he interrupted. “Here's the thing. If you love me, you gotta do what I say. Now, it's true that it always hurts the first time for a woman.”

A woman
. The words hit hard, mocking her. “I'm sorry,” she whispered with a slow shake of her head. There was an abrupt change in his expression—a tightening of the facial muscles, a narrowing of the eyes. It was subtle and yet so abrupt, it stole her breath. In a moment's time, there had been a hardening of his heart she could actually feel. She'd lost him. Standing there, refusing to give herself to him, she'd just lost him. But how could she lose him by wanting to wait?

“In my world,” he said without a flicker of emotion, “a promise is a promise.”

A new fear seized hold of her, although it was more instinct than true understanding. She took a step away, but he yanked her right back and kissed her roughly. She turned her head and attempted to pull free. “Let go of me!”

He did. He let go of her, studied her labored breathing and flushed face for a moment, and then began to unbutton his trousers.

The confusion she felt lasted only a split second and was followed by blood chilling panic. She tried to get around him, but he grabbed her and forced her back to the bed. She cried out for him to stop, but his face was a mask of determination as he forced her down and climbed on top of her. She fought him, but he got her skirt up. “No, please,” she pleaded. “I shouldn't have said—” One arm pinned her painfully, his forearm on her chest, as the other yanked at her knickers. She heard her clothing rip and he had one leg free. “Stop it,” she cried. “Oh God, please—”

Her pleas made no difference. She couldn't stop him, and her innocence was lost in a stab of pain. Hot tears slid down her face and into her ears. He was still moving, still on her. Time had stopped and her life was ruined, but he was still moving. He made a strange cry and then collapsed beside her. He was breathing hard as he got off her.

She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. She was bruised and sick to her stomach and
ruined
. Seconds passed and then she realized he was dressing. Thank God.
Just leave. Leave.
But the sound of voices—male voices—made her breath catch. She forced herself upright and tried to stand, but couldn't. She heard a voice again and was bitterly confused by it. This was an isolated parcel of her family's land. No one ever came around here. Consumed with dread, she attempted to straighten her clothing and hide what had happened, but her dizziness and badly shaking limbs made it difficult.

“Hello?” a voice called.

Jenny instantly recognized the voice of Stan Thomas, Ted's best friend. She turned to Ted with an incredulous expression, but he wasn't looking at her. In that moment, she knew. Whatever he had been pretending all these months with her, it
had
been pretending. He hadn't meant any of what he'd declared. He didn't love her. He didn't love her at all. She was a fool. Her brother, Jeremy, had been right about that. She was a stupid, stupid fool and Ted Landreth had just ruined her. She had let him ruin her. “Why is he here?” she asked in a low, trembling voice.

Ted didn't answer, nor did he look at her.

“What are you talking about . . .
share
her?” another voice said. She recognized her friend Curtis's voice.

Jenny reeled, because she'd heard the words clearly. The room was spinning madly, but she managed to stand. The realization that her knickers were still around one ankle was too much and she would have collapsed again, except that Ted was suddenly in front of her. “Hey,” he said, roughly grabbing her arms.

Cold, hard disgust knotted in the pit of her belly, but it didn't stop tears from flowing down her face.

“You want to marry me, doing what I say is part of it,” he stated.

She shook her head because he was a liar. “You said you loved me.”

“If I didn't think the whole world of you, would I want to share you with my friends?”

The words were monstrous. He was monstrous. How could she have been so stupid?

“Can we come in or what?” Stan called.

Ted gave her a shake. “You do what I say,” he warned.

She shook her head because she wouldn't. She'd scream her head off. She'd fight him, fight them all. She'd kill them. She'd let Jeremy kill them.

The door creaked open.

“Jenny?” Curtis called worriedly.

Curtis would help her. He was her friend. “Help me,” she called to him without looking away from Ted.

Ted's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

“Leave her alone, Ted,” Curtis said, coming into the room. “Whatever this is—”

Ted turned to glare at him. “Whatever this is, is none of your damn business if you don't want to take a turn. Just get on out of here.”

The words gagged Jenny. She was going to be sick.

“There's not going to be any turns,” Curtis said.

“Shoulda known not to bring you,” Stan complained angrily from just inside the door. “Just clear out if you don't wanna.”

“She's mine,” Ted declared. “She does what I say.”

“No,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “I won't!”

Curtis started toward her to help her, but stopped abruptly when he felt the gun Stan had pressed to the back of his skull.

Ted cursed as he let go of her and turned his attention to his friends. “Put it down,” he ordered angrily.

“I was promised something and I'm going to get it,” Stan swore.

“I said, put it down,” Ted said through clenched teeth. “When did I say a damn thing about guns? Huh?”

Stan was livid, but he lowered the gun. “You promised—”

“Too bad,” Ted retorted, glowering at both Curtis and Stan. “This whole thing is blown. Now let's go.”

Jenny's legs gave way. She was sickeningly light-headed as she half sat, half fell onto the floor. She kept her face turned from all of them, unable to stop the tears of mortification.

“Jenny?” Curtis said.

The others had gone, but she couldn't look at him. He was her friend and he would have helped her, but she was shamed beyond redemption. “Puh-please go.”

“Will you be all right to get home?” he asked quietly, reluctant to leave her.

She nodded.

“Did he hurt you?”

She winced. “Please—”

“I'm sorry, Jenny. I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”

She turned her face even farther away and held her breath at the sound of his retreating footsteps. She pressed a hand to her stomach, but she couldn't stop the wave of nausea. Moaning from the pain, she leaned over and retched before dissolving in sobs of misery.

It took time to gain enough strength to collect herself. When she left the dim confines of the cabin, the sunshine was shocking. It was a beautiful day, birds were singing. How odd. She could
see
it was a fine day, but she couldn't
feel
it. Because she was ruined. The old log cabin sat on the northwest corner of their property and she had loved it as a child, but she would never be able to set foot in there again.

She walked blindly, knowing the path by rote, stopping only when she reached the pond. Staring at the brilliantly twinkling water, she longed to have her sins washed away, but could even the best preacher pull off that feat? If she had been forced from the beginning, she'd stand a chance at redemption, but she'd gone to the cabin willingly. She'd imagined herself marrying Ted Landreth, having his children, living happily ever after. She'd been so stupid. He'd said he loved her, but he only wanted to use her, and she'd let him.

Jenny hugged herself as she walked on. When she got home, she warily stepped through the back door, praying her mother was elsewhere. She'd pulled herself together as best she could, but she felt so bruised and altered.

“Jen?” her mother called from the parlor.

Jenny stopped short. “Yes, ma'am,” she said, trying to make her voice sound normal.

“What took you so long?”

“I helped Miss McCarthy,” Jenny lied, clutching her schoolbooks tighter. She continued to the doorway to the parlor and saw her mother sitting in her rocking chair, mending a shirt. It was the most normal, everyday sight and it caused Jenny's shame to intensify tenfold. She turned and hurried on toward the sanctuary of her room.

“Everything all right?” her mother asked, looking up from her sewing.

“I'm not feeling very well,” Jenny replied without turning back to face her mother's discerning gaze. One good look and her mother would know.

“You're probably just hungry. Dinner's about ready.”

Jenny grabbed a breath and held it as fresh tears broke loose, but her room was just ahead. She made it there, stepped inside and shut the door. Backing up against the wall, she pressed her hands to her mouth to hold in the sobs that would give her away. If Mama saw her now, if she pressed for what was wrong—

“I'm starving,” her brother announced, having just walked in. Which meant she'd only just missed him. She shivered at the thought of Jeremy finding out what had happened. There was no telling what he'd do to Ted Landreth.

“When's supper?” he asked.

“It's about ready. Wash up and set the table.”

“Why can't Jen?” he complained.

The remorse she felt was crushing. Jenny slid down the wall, hugged her knees, and buried her face in her hands.

 

 

Jenny reluctantly went into the kitchen for supper. Her mother's back was turned and she stirred the contents of a pan on the stove. Jeremy was just sitting at his place, but she avoided his curious gaze as she sat. Roast beef and potatoes and green beans were set out.

“What's wrong with you?” he asked.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and scowled. “Nothing,” she replied irritably. “I'm just not feeling well.”

“Why you been crying?” he asked under his breath.

Fortunately, their pa walked in the back door, providing a moment of blessed distraction. “Mind your own business,” she hissed.

He huffed. “Bet I know why.”

Jenny clenched her fists tightly beneath the table and refused to look at him. Ma set down the bowl of gravy and wiped her hands on her apron before sitting. “Since you're starving to death,” she said teasingly to Jeremy, “you can say the blessing.”

“I'm starving, too,” Rodney Sheffield said as he sat. “So bless this food we're about to receive. Amen.”

“Amen,” Jeremy said, reaching for the platter of roast beef.

Without question, it was the hardest meal Jenny had ever had to get through. She could barely choke down a bite, and Jeremy kept looking at her suspiciously, and her mother wanted to discuss the upcoming picnic at church. As if she could go to it. Or go anywhere. She felt cold and then hot at the thought of the humiliation to come. “I don't feel well,” she said, pushing back from the table. “May I be excused?”

Her mother frowned. “You do look flushed. Go on and lie down. I'll check on you in a bit.”

 

 

Jenny lay on her bed and drew the quilt over her, feeling how bruised she was. How soiled. She pretended to sleep when her mother checked on her later. She loved the roughened but tender hand that felt her forehead for fever. She loved her mother and all her family, and they loved her. And she'd ruined herself. She'd ruined everything.