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Justin Kincaid had come back.
Maybe it wasn't him, she thought as she refastened her cuffs. It could well be another Justin Kincaid. Both names were common enough. She'd met a family of Kincaids two springs ago when a wagon train had camped close to Landing. She'd asked a couple of the women settlers, but they'd never heard of Justin.
She smoothed her hair, then made her way back into her store. Andrew, her assistant, was wrapping up a purchase of bleached muslin for one of the young women in town. No doubt she would be making a pretty dress for the Fourth of July dance. The celebration was months away, but people started preparing well in advance. Thinking about that dance didn't ease her mind nor make her forget Justin. In fact, it made her think of other dances when she'd been held by proper young men but had watched Justin out of the corner of her eye. He'd danced with almost everyone but her. He'd made those girls laugh with his easy humor and flirtatious winks.
Once, at one of the dances, on a magical night filled with stars, he'd found her out walking through a grove of trees. No one had been around, although they could still hear the music of the fiddler. Without saying a word, Justin had taken her into his arms. He'd pulled her closer than the other boys did. Close enough that she'd felt the heat of his body, his warm breath on her face. Close enough that her heart had pounded harder in her chest. They'd danced for what felt like a lifetime, circling, staring into each other's eyes. His fingers had burned into her back. For a moment, while they'd waited between songs, his head had dipped low and he'd brushed his mouth against her cheek. Then he'd looked at her and—
"Oh, Megan," she heard someone say. "I need to order a few yards of silk."
Megan blinked several times and found herself standing in her general store. The woman in front of her went on about her daughter's upcoming wedding and the need for the young woman to have something pretty to wear her first night married.
Megan flushed. She'd never had a wedding night. Had never had a wedding. At twenty-four, she was an old maid. And a businesswoman, she reminded herself as she hurried forward to help the customer. So what if Justin had come back? She didn't care. She didn't have time to care. But as she continued to work that afternoon, she could hear the faint sounds of the fiddle from that long-ago night and her cheek tingled with the soft echo of Justin's kiss.
By three-thirty, Megan couldn't stand it anymore. If one more person came into the store and asked if it was true that Justin Kincaid had come back, she was going to scream. Everyone wanted to talk about the possibility, but no one was willing to find out the truth.
Widow Dobson talked on and on about what a mistake it was going to be, and how someone born to trouble usually died from trouble. Even if it wasn't his fault.
"You mark my words," the older woman said for at least the fortieth time that day. "It's easy to hope a boy like that
will turn out right. But a body never knows for sure. I can just see—"
Not willing to listen to the widow for one more minute, Megan marched to the rear of the store and slipped behind the curtain. In her tiny office, she picked up her hat and set it on her head. She paused in front of the oval mirror long enough to make sure the hat was straight and that no stray hairs had escaped from her morning coiffure, then she picked up her cloak and drew it over her shoulders. After closing the fasteners at her throat, she reached for her gloves and reticule, and headed back into the store.
"Andrew, watch things for me, please," she called as she sailed down the center aisle.
"Where are you going?" the widow asked.
Megan paused by the door and pulled on her gloves. "To find out the truth."
The older woman gasped. "You mean—"
"I'm going to the sheriff's office."
"But you can't. My dear girl, if it is him, well, he's one of those kind of men. What will people think?"
The question made her hesitate. Megan knew the power of what other people thought. She lived her life by what other people would or would not think of her actions. Between her late father's rules and having a minister for a brother-in-law, she always had to think about other people's opinions.
But she also had to know. She would go mad if she didn't find out the truth. If it wasn't the Justin Kincaid she knew, then she would simply introduce herself and come back. And if it was him.. .well, she would figure that out when she saw him.
