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Minerva smiled softly and touched her husband's arm. "Jim, honey, if you get me that box out of the back, I'll run on into the house while you men talk." "Sure thing."
Jack stared at Minerva's small, gloved hand, noticing the gentle, possessive way her fingers lingered against the rough wool of her husband's sleeve. He stood rooted to the spot, motionless and unblinking, thrown suddenly into a world all his own. A world in which once, long ago, his wife had touched him like that.
Ours. Lissa had said the word so quietly that at first he thought he'd imagined it. Ours. If only it were true . . .
The thought came so fast, so unexpectedly, that he had no armor raised against it. Longing and despair spilled through in its wake, bringing with it the inevitable fear. Need closed around his neck with cold, suffocating fingers.
What was she doing to him?
Suddenly he felt as if he were standing on a slippery slope of mud instead of firm, stable farmland, fighting a battle he'd thought he'd gained the upper hand in long ago.
He was losing his will to fight. Even knowing how easily she could manipulate him didn't keep him from seeing the impossible softness in her eyes. The softness that had left her gaze long ago and never really returned.
Except, of course, in his mind. There it had never left. There, in that crazy, cowardly, mixed-up place where nothing was what it seemed, and nothing seen could be believed, she'd always looked at him like that.
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Only now the line between reality and fantasy was blurring. He wasn't sure if anything about her?about them?
was real.. ..
God help him, for one moment in the kitchen, when she'd whispered ours, he'd believed in her completely. "You're a fool," he muttered. "What was that, Mr. Rafferty?"
Minerva's voice wrenched him back to the real world. Jack shook his head to clear it. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just another game, another goddamn way to hurt him. Anything to make him feel, and once he did, anything to make him hurt. Amarylis had been playing the game for years. Like the night Caleb had been conceived. That wonderful, magical night.. . and the horrible, humiliating morning ...
He had to remember that night, the way she'd manipulated and shamed him. No matter what she did, or how she appeared, he had to remember that she hated him with a singleness of spirit that made her iron-strong.
He squeezed his eyes shut as a cold wave of regret washed through him. If only he weren't so damned weak. If only he didn't love her so goddamn much ...
When the knock on the door came, Tess ran her hands down the coarse linsey-woolsey of her dress and glanced quickly around the kitchen.
Satisfied, she rushed to the door and pulled it open, finding a tall, thin, beautiful woman standing on the porch. A flowered straw bonnet hid her hair, but the blue-gray eyes that sparkled beneath its brim were bright and intelligent. The woman smiled tentatively. "Good morning, Mrs. Rafferty. I trust I'm not disturbing you?"
"Are you kidding? I'm thrilled to have a grownup to talk to. Come on in."
A moment's confusion passed through Minerva's eyes.
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Tess was reminded of Jack's warning to be nice. No doubt Amarylis had been rude to the neighbors.
Tess put forth her best don't-be-shy smile. "Please," she said, motioning to the kitchen table. "Come on in."
"Thank you, Mrs. Rafferty," she said, following Tess into the kitchen.
"Call me Lissa."
Minerva eyed her warily. "Certainly. And you must call me Minerva."
"Great. Now, what do you have in that box? It smells heavenly."
Minerva set the slatted wooden box on the floor. "Nothing much. Just a cold meat pie and bread. Doc Hayes said you'd had a rough time of it. I thought you might like a break from cooking."
"That's very thoughtful of you." Smiling again, she crossed quickly to the stove and put water on to boil. The quiet click of the door being opened got her attention. Turning, she saw Minerva leaving. "Minerva, wait!"
Minerva peered cautiously over her shoulder. "Yes, Mrs. ... Lissa?"
