September Rain Page 5

  She listened to the rain pummeling the tin roof. “I guess we’re in for an early winter, what with the cold rain starting this early in September. My father always said September rain foretold a hard winter, while November rain indicated it would be wet but mild. You know what? I never asked him what rain in October foretold.”

  She sat down in the chair and pulled the blanket close around her, an emptiness gnawing inside her. “I never asked him a lot of things,” she said sadly. “We take our families for granted, don’t we? I thought Daddy would always be there for me, would always take care of me. Then, after he got sick, I merely accepted the fact that we’d changed places, and I would always be there for him. It never occurred to me that he would die.” She tucked the blanket under her chin.

  “I am tired. I guess it takes a lot out of a person getting attacked and then riding for hours on a horse.” She looked over at the bed. “Of course, you got the worst end of the deal, didn’t you? I mean, that drifter knocked me down and choked me, but thanks to you that’s all that happened to me.”

  She wrapped her arms about herself, drawing the blanket closer. “I’m so sorry they beat you, Jacob. It was my fault. I suppose I should have listened to Mr. Myers and not walked home alone. I’ve always tried to be independent. It’s a good thing, too, because now that Daddy’s gone, I’m all alone.”

  Her eyes drifted closed as she talked. “I suppose the attacker must have thought I carried money. I am of an age that I am in little danger of being accosted for my favors.” A frisson of fear skittered up her spine as she remembered the man’s hands on her legs, violating her.

  “Brent Myers says he wants me to marry him.” She shuddered. “I know why. There’s little enough reason he’d want to marry an old maid like me. He’s searching for respectability. Everyone in town knows where he spends most nights and I’m certain that would not change. Even if he swore to remain true until his dying day, I would never marry him. Not even to keep him from taking my store away from me.”

  Hallie shifted and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “But it would be nice to be married. I can imagine that loving someone would be wonderful. And children. Oh how nice it would be to have children.” She stopped in horror, realizing what she’d said.

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I do hope you’re asleep. I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

  She watched him for a moment, but he lay still and quiet, although the deep furrow was still between his brows and his mouth was still set hard.

  “I wish you could relax. If there was some way I could stop your pain, make you feel better, I would.” She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

  Jacob stole a look at the woman who had invaded his lonely life. She’d walked into his cabin and within a few short hours had begun to make it into a home. His gaze moved to the jar of flowers on his table. A queer ache began inside him at the purely female gesture.

  His wife had done that--picked flowers, cooked special, fragrant soups and stews, so much tastier than boiled potatoes and meat. He’d never thought of this cabin as home, but Hallie was making him think of several things he had not considered in a long time.

  And he didn’t like thinking those things, any more than he liked her constant stream of conversation. He had probably heard more talking today than he had in the entirety of the past three years. Her chatter irritated the hell out of him, while in an odd way it was also comforting. One thing was for sure though, he knew how to shut her up.

  "--wish I could do something to help you sleep," she was saying.

  He took a deep breath. “You could hush up,” he said, surprised at the rusty sound of his voice, but oddly pleased that he managed to make any noise at all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Hallie jumped straight up from the chair. “What?” she cried, pressing a hand to her breast.

  Jacob wiped a hand down his face, grunting at the pain the gesture caused him, then turned to look out the window. Now that he’d spoken, he was sorry. Damned sorry. He’d given in to an impulse, and he was probably going to regret it for the rest of his life.

  He knew Hallie wouldn't let up on him now that she knew he could talk. Damn her for being so irritating, and so appealing. Damn her for caring.

  Hallie’s heart was pounding so loud she could feel it all the way down to her toes. Her fingers tingled and her ears burned with shock. “You--you--”

  She stood there for a moment, but the figure on the bed might have been carved from stone. He didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. Wavering between shock and fury, she grabbed the lantern and turned the wick up, then held it over the bed, the light flickering from the trembling of her hands.

  Jacob’s features closed in a frown.

  “Stop that,” she demanded. “Stop ignoring me. You talked.” Her voice rasped past the tightness in her throat and her eyes stung. Jacob Chandler had spoken. She held the lantern close to his face. “Look at me.”

  With an air of weary resignation, Jacob turned his face to hers and lifted his gaze slowly. His eyes looked purple in the red glow of the lantern.

  “Say something.”

  He just looked at her.

  “Say something!” Hallie wanted to shake him. “You talked. I heard you. Now say something.”

  Jacob’s eyes narrowed and he ran the backs of his fingers across his throat. Then he licked his lips. “Like what?”

  Hallie stared at his mouth. The sound was barely a whisper, and rusty as an old gate hinge, but it was a voice. It was Jacob's voice.

  “Oh,” she gasped quietly, then collapsed on the edge of the bed, her legs no longer able to hold her up. The shaking in her hands had spread to encompass her entire body. Quickly, she put down the lantern.

  To her great chagrin, she felt tears start in her eyes. She put her hands over her mouth and breathed slowly, until her heart stopped pounding.

  “You can talk. Oh, Jacob.” She pressed her lips tightly together and blinked rapidly, but still the tears slipped down her cheeks. She shook her head and gave him a quavery smile. “I’m so glad.”

  He scowled at her, still rubbing his throat.

  “Why haven’t you talked since--I mean, in all this time?” Suddenly she was stumbling over her words, she who never had trouble with conversation.

  He shook his head once, almost a jerk. Then his eyes met hers and Hallie saw in them a sadness so profound it made her heart ache.

  Jacob Chandler considered Hallie's question. It was a fair one. One he had asked himself more than once. He hadn’t said a word since he’d first realized he was alive. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his grief. He’d never shared the guilt or the agony of lying on the ground, his blood soaking into the dirt, knowing his wife lay dying beside him and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.

  It had been three years since he’d last spoken, since he’d had a reason to speak. Now, the need to say something to this woman who had invaded his loneliness was compelling, if not entirely welcome, much like the heavy, sweet pain in his loins. He blinked against the sudden sting in his eyes.

  Hallie’s face reflected the compassion she felt for him. “Why, Jacob? Why have you let people think you were crazy? Why haven’t you talked?”

  He shrugged gingerly. “It hurts,” he managed. It was the best he could do as an explanation, and if he were lucky, she’d take it literally. It was true as far as it went. He rubbed his knuckles over the scar. His throat already throbbed with a raw ache.

  Jacob sat rigid under her scrutiny, and he knew the exact second the full meaning of his words washed over her. The blood drained from her face, making her dark eyes look as big as silver dollars.

  He wanted to touch her cheek, to wipe away the anguish he’d put there. He wanted to tell her she was wrong to think he was talking about a pain other than physical. But he couldn’t, because she knew.

  He had the extremely uneasy feeling Hallie Greer was going to know a lot about him before he could manage to get rid of her.


  “Ex — excuse me,” she stammered. She stood and ran out the door of the cabin.

  Jacob wiped his face and groaned. He hated knowing what she was thinking. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of him, so she’d run outside. But she wasn’t quick enough. He’d seen her tears. He debated the advisability of going after her, but it would do no good for both of them to be wet and cold, and he was in no mood to offer comfort.

  He hadn’t even wanted her here in the first place. What business was it of hers whether or not he could talk? He flexed his sore muscles carefully. He’d helped her because she was a woman in trouble. Still, he’d known she was in trouble only because he’d been watching her, and he’d been watching her because he couldn't figure out why she’d haunted his dreams for the four months since the last time he’d seen her.

  That morning in the store, he’d almost spoken to her. He’d almost thanked her for being so sweet and caring, for looking him straight in the eye, for treating him like a person.

  But that didn’t mean he wanted her up here invading his privacy, making a home out of his cabin. And it sure didn’t mean he wanted her trying to bring his dead soul back to life.

  He wished she’d come on back inside, because it was going to hurt like hell for him to get up to go fetch her.

  ##

  HALLIE COWERED under the narrow eaves, away from the worst of the blowing rain and cried. She couldn’t stop crying. She cried more than she had when her father died.

  It hurts.

  The desolation and grief in those two words overwhelmed her. She had never known such sadness. She had never experienced the kind of pain Jacob Chandler had. There were no words of comfort she could offer him, no balm to soothe the ache that must have eaten a hole in his soul.

  She’d tried to escape before he saw her tears, but she wasn’t sure she'd succeeded. He was so hurt, and she needed to be strong for him. She hadn’t meant to cry. As she very well knew, crying did no good. It only made a mess of one’s face and caused embarrassment to everyone.

  Later, with her fingers freezing and her face burning from the rain and her tears, Hallie stepped back inside, the relative warmth of the cabin sending shivers through her body. She hoped Jacob was asleep, but when she stepped quietly over to the bed to pick up her blanket, she felt his eyes on her.

  “Better?” he whispered.

  Hallie shot him a sharp glance. His face held a glimmer of amusement that overlay the sadness and pain. An especially strong shudder racked her.

  “I’m cold,” he said softly, in his ruined voice.

  “You’re --” she frowned at him. He was cold? She quivered inside her wet clothes. He hadn’t stood outside and cried in the cold September rain. His feet weren’t like ice. His hands weren’t aching. He’d been in here under the blanket.

  It hurts.

  Suddenly, Hallie realized what he was doing. He was inviting her to share his warmth. To share his bed. She averted her eyes from his. Deliberately misunderstanding his meaning, she nodded.

  “You need this blanket,” she said. “You likely still have some fever.” She picked up the blanket with cold-stiffened fingers and moved to spread it over him. Then she stepped over to the fire to warm her hands.

  “No.”

  “What?” She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. She prayed he wouldn't say what she knew he was going to. She didn't think she could be that close to him. “Do you need something else?”

  She heard the rustle of material as he turned the edge of the blankets down. She pressed her lips together and held her breath.

  “You’re cold, too.”

  Hallie composed her face and turned around. “You can’t expect me to climb into bed with you. I can’t. It’s preposterous.” Please, don’t say it.

  “You’re freezing. You need to get warm.”

  “But, but my skirt is wet, and so is my shirt. I’d have to undress.” She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t.”

  “Come on.”

  Hallie turned her back on Jacob and the inviting warmth of his bed. “You’re sick. And we’re — I mean I’m--” She shivered again.

  “Come on, Hallie,” Jacob said on a sigh. “You’re cold, I’m aching all over. Trust me. All we will do is sleep.” He laughed, and realized he hadn’t laughed in a long, long time. “Believe me. I’m no threat to you.”

  Hallie’s green eyes were as wide and wary as a doe’s. She looked at him, then down at her sodden clothes, and her face turned pink. Jacob stifled a groan. He might not have the energy to pose a threat to her, but he had an idea he was going to sleep damned uncomfortably if she accepted his offer.

  She shivered, but didn’t move.

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “But you’ll take cold if you stay in those wet clothes all night.”

  Hallie looked over her shoulder at him, then back at the fire, which was waning. Jacob knew what she was thinking. She’d already used all the wood he’d stacked by the hearth, and the wood outside was wet.

  She took a deep breath and began to unbutton her blouse. She peeled it off her damp arms, then slipped out of her riding skirt. She looked down at herself.

  “Well,” she said with a laugh that sounded forced, “I am a spinster of a certain age. It’s not as if, I mean, I guess I’m still more covered up than the girls down at the Bliss House. Well now, that was a silly thing to say.” Her face burned. “Why would I be thinking about how they dress, or--?”

  Jacob hardly heard her words. He was too caught up in the sight of her undressing by firelight. A faint memory caught him unaware, of Mary’s slight form outlined by the fire’s glow, but while it was poignant, the memory was faded and washed with time, and it didn’t interfere with his pleasure in the sight before him now.

  His body stirred, and he closed his eyes and swallowed. What had he been thinking? Better to give her the bed and spend the night huddled by the waning fire than to invite the torture spending the night with her lying beside him.

  Hallie was still talking. “It only makes sense for us to sleep in the same bed. It is merely an expedient solution to a problem. There is one bed and two people and only two blankets. I am much too old to be thinking about foolishness. And besides, as you say, you certainly pose no threat.”

  Jacob scowled. He had said that, but right now, he was beginning to think he had more strength, more stamina than he’d given himself credit for. Which was probably a good thing, he thought wryly. Because he was going to need a lot of stamina to make it through this night.

  Gathering her courage about her like an invisible cloak, Hallie turned determinedly around, only to falter when she found Jacob watching her openly. His battered mouth was quirked in a slight smile.

  “What are you laughing at?” she said quickly. “Is something showing?” She looked down at herself. No. All the tiny buttons on her chemise were buttoned, and except for the one narrow strip she’d torn from the bottom, her underskirt still covered a quite respectable amount of leg.

  “Do you always talk so much?” Jacob asked, his face lit by a tiny smile.

  Hallie shrugged and tried to ignore the flicker of his glance to the top of her chemise and the thrill it gave her to know he couldn’t stop himself from looking. “I’ve been told I talk quite a bit.”

  He patted the bed, then moved over with a groan. “Come on then. I’m cold.”

  Hallie slipped gingerly under the covers, curling herself into a tiny ball on the very edge of the narrow cot. The blankets barely covered her, but she was still close enough to feel Jacob’s heat behind her.

  She closed her eyes and begged God for strength. The warmth emanating from him was so inviting to her chilled body. What a wonderful thing it must be to spend every night with a husband, a man with whom one shared an abiding love. Right now, Hallie couldn’t think of anything in the world more appealing than the idea of having Jacob’s lean, strong body wrapped around her.

  “You okay?” Jacob asked.

  She realized sh
e had moaned. “Of course,” she said brightly. “Just trying to relax. You should do the same.”

  Jacob made a short, sharp sound, as if he wanted to laugh but had forgotten how. “Relax. . .” he drawled, making the word sound like a foreign language.

  “That’s right,” she continued. “Just close your eyes and make believe you’re floating in a pond. Just floating there and watching the birds. That sometimes helps me to go to sleep when I can’t, like if I’ve drunk coffee too late in the evening or if I’ve been reading an exciting story.”

  “Hallie?”

  “Yes, Jacob?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Yes, Jacob.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hallie woke in the night to the sound of thunder. Her first thought was that she was dreaming. She felt safe and warm. Without moving, afraid to disturb the dream, she lay still and listened. The rain beat steadily on the tin roof, echoing outside the open window, and behind her. Jacob’s even breaths added a comforting rhythm to the sound of the rain. The September rain.

  With a surge of awareness, Hallie remembered where she was. She was in Jacob Chandler’s bed, and her dream of sharing warmth with a hard, comforting body was no dream.

  Instead of leaping up in spinsterish outrage, however, she lay perfectly still. She didn’t want to disturb either Jacob or her dreamlike state.

  So this was it, she thought, her mouth curving up into a smile. This was how it felt to sleep with a man, to have a man’s body wrapped close around hers. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, redolent of damp earth, potato soup and warm sleep. She was a wanton, she thought drowsily, if being a wanton woman meant enjoying lying next to a man. She had nothing to compare the feeling to, but she was fairly certain it was the best feeling she’d ever experienced. She snuggled back against him, her backside fitting into the curve of his body.

  His breath caught on a quick, harsh gasp.