Beyond This Moment Page 30

  "You're certain, dear?"

  Molly nodded again.

  "Well-" Oleta patted her shoulder. "You rest right here. LuEllen and I will get your plate for you:"

  The women returned with food, and at their encouragement, Molly took a few bites. But it wasn't appetizing and sat uneasy on her stomach.

  LuEllen Spivey leaned closer. "You're sure you're all right, dear? You're looking unwell again:"

  How could the woman manage so kind a tone when her manner clearly said she felt the opposite? Molly composed herself. "Please, you ladies go on and see to your families. I'm just going to sit here and enjoy the food and music for a while:"

  Looking only partially convinced, Oleta Tucker finally nodded. Mrs. Spivey just smiled.

  Once they left, Molly tried eating again, vegetables this time, and managed a few bites, knowing the baby needed the nourishment, even if she wasn't hungry.

  "Miss Molly?"

  She looked up to see Charlie walking toward her, and had to look twice at the woman with him. It was Miss Matthews! The woman she'd met at Hank Bolden's store.

  "Miss Molly-" Charlie gestured beside him. "This is Lori Beth. Miss Lori Beth Matthews;' he added quickly. "I just asked her to dance with me." His eyes widened for a humorous instant. "But first, I wanted you two to meet. Lori Beth, this here's Dr. Molly Whitcomb."

  Miss Matthews extended her hand. "Charlie, Dr. Whitcomb and I have already had the pleasure of meeting:"

  Molly grasped hold. "Miss Matthews, it's so nice to see you again. And please call me Molly." She couldn't help but look between Charlie and the woman, and she could tell by Miss Matthews's smile that she was aware of her surprise.

  "Nice to see you again too, Molly. And it would please me if you'd call me Lori Beth:" Her smile wavered. "So few people do these days:"

  Molly glimpsed the frailty she'd perceived in the woman the first time they'd met. "You need to know that Charlie speaks very highly of you, Lori Beth"

  "As he does to me about you. Thank you"-she squeezed Molly's hand-"for welcoming me so warmly tonight. Town gatherings aren't easy for me to attend."

  Molly caught her own frown a fraction before it formed, having the feeling she was missing something. Yet she didn't know what. Discovering that Miss Matthews was the object of Charlie's affection helped allay her earlier concern on his behalf. But she still had trouble pairing them, and a flicker of shame burned her when she realized why.

  Because Lori Beth was much more polished than Charlie. More refined and well spoken.

  The silence drew out-too long, Molly realized. Lori Beth's expression revealed awareness, and Molly knew she'd failed to mask her thoughts.

  Feeling at odds within herself, she borrowed a page from Mrs. Spivey's book, and felt years older in the taking. "Please, don't let me keep you two from enjoying yourselves. There's music playing!"

  Charlie eyed the couples dancing. "I guess we could go dance now, Lori Beth. If you want:'

  "I'd very much like that, Charlie. Thank you:" She turned to Molly. "I hope we can visit again, before the evening's through:'

  "Of course, I'll be sitting right here"

  Molly took her seat again. Charlie glanced back when Lori Beth wasn't looking and gave her a big grin. Molly waved and watched as he took Lori Beth's hand and led her onto the dance floor. He bowed slightly-as she'd taught him-then took Lori Beth into his arms to dance.

  If Molly wasn't mistaken, she saw Charlie's lips moving, counting in time to the music, which made her smile.

  "Molly?"

  Hearing her name, and the apology wrapped around it, she briefly closed her eyes. As much as she'd looked forward to this evening, and to seeing him, she now couldn't wait for it to end. She felt like such an imposter.

  James claimed an empty chair beside her.

  "Before you say anything, James-" She looked around to see if anyone was listening, but the blur of conversation and music provided ample cover. Still, she kept her voice low, as he had done. "You owe me no apology."

  "I feel as if I do. Can we go somewhere and talk? Quick, before Mrs. Spivey or Miss Stafford sees me again?"

  She softened at the desperation in his voice. "I'm fine, James, really. And there'll be time to talk later."

  "Something tells me you're not fine, Molly. And that maybe you haven't been fine in a long time:"

  His deep voice had a rasp to it that stirred something inside her.

  Hearing the music reminded her she was supposed to be watching, and she turned to see Charlie dancing slow with Lori Beth, holding her gently, not once stepping on the woman's feet-that Molly could see. Charlie looked her way. She saw the pride and love on his face, and couldn't have been happier for him.

  She felt James watching her.

  "Thank you for your note:"

  She turned. "Did you read it?" What a silly question. Of course he'd read it....

  "Only about twenty times so far:" He patted the pocket on his suit jacket. "But I carry it with me, just in case I need to read it again:'

  Molly told herself to look away from those blue eyes, but she couldn't. And without permission, another portion of her heart gave itself to him.

  "What you wrote, though, it had a certain ... dichotomy to it, don't you think?"

  "Dichotomy?" She smiled despite the turmoil inside her.

  He nodded. "That means a division or contrast between two things that are-"

  "I know what the word means:' She gave a soft laugh. "I just didn't know you did:'

  He feigned a wounded look. `And this after you said such sweet things in your note:"

  The tempo of the string music changed. A little faster tune, but the couples dancing still held each other close.

  I wish I could ask you to dance with me, Molly." His voice had softened. "Or maybe you'd agree to give me private lessons sometime"

  He knew about Charlie. "Have you been spying on me, Sheriff McPherson?"

  His face reddened. "I might have come by your cabin one evening to see if you'd have dinner with me. And then just happened to pass real close by the schoolhouse and sort of... happened to see through a window. For a few minutes:'

  "You just happened to pass real close by?" She made a tsking noise, able to see that he truly did feel bad about having done it. But not completely. "Are sheriffs allowed to spy on people through windows like that?"

  `Actually, it's one of the advantages of being a sheriff. You can do it and it's considered part of your job:'

  "Really?"

  He nodded. "It's in the Law Book. Section forty-two, code nineteen. A sheriff can skulk around a schoolhouse and spy on dance lessons for the safety of the town's teacher:"

  "May I see that book, please?"

  "It's back in the office:" One corner of his mouth tipped upward. "If you'll take that walk with me, I'll show it to you."

  If it were up to her, she would get up from this table right now and go with him. But it wasn't. That timeless, ageless whisper reverberated inside her, reminding her of what she had to do. But this wasn't the right setting. She shook her head. "No, James. I can't:' I won't.

  Molly saw Charlie and Lori Beth making their way toward the refreshment tables, and felt James following her gaze. "That's the woman Charlie was taking the dance lessons for. Her name is-"

  "Lori Beth Matthews;" James said quietly, his tone going flat.

  She tried to read his expression and couldn't. "What's wrong?" She glanced at Lori Beth, that same sense of having missed something returning. Her concern for Charlie renewed. "Do you know her?"

  "Yes;' James whispered, watching the couple. "I know Miss Matthews. I just didn't know that she and Charlie were-" He looked back at her. "That they were seeing each other:"

  Protectiveness rose within her, swift and strong. "Is there something about Miss Matthews that Charlie should know? I'm not asking you to reveal a confidence, James, I just-" She sighed. "Charlie likes her very much, and I'd simply like an assurance that he won't get hurt:"

>   "Charlie knows. At least I'm pretty sure he does. He's lived here for years:"

  Molly's curiosity and concern jumped about ten levels. It wasn't like James to talk about others, and she waited, sensing he might say more if she didn't.

  A moment passed before he spoke again. "This is common knowledge to anyone who's lived here very long. And I tell you now only because I know you care about Charlie. And I do too." The fine lines around the edges of his eyes grew more pronounced, as they did when he was troubled. "Miss Matthews moved here about five years ago. From somewhere back east. She worked in the dress shop for a while, and did real well for herself, is my understanding. Then-" He looked as if whatever he was about to say pained him. "Then Miss Matthews came to be with child;' he whispered, his voice thick with disapproval.

  Molly heard the words, saw the objection on his face, and felt a severing deep inside her.

  "We didn't know whose baby it was, and to my knowledge, we still don't. She's never said:"

  Glad she was seated, Molly swallowed. `And yet she chose to stay here;' she whispered, hardly aware she'd spoken the words.

  "Yes ... she did. But I'm not sure how wise a choice that was, given how she's been treated by folks:"

  Numb, Molly watched Lori Beth as she and Charlie went through the food line. The expressions of the women serving behind the tables didn't change-until Lori Beth passed. Then a handful of them turned and whispered to each other. And those who didn't also didn't speak to her.

  "You're shaking. Are you cold?" James reached for her hands beneath the tablecloth.

  Molly gently pulled away. "So she-" Her voice caught. She cleared her throat. "She has a child?"

  James glanced around them, his expression unsettled. "The baby died at birth;' he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "A boy, from what I was told. It was before Brookston came. There was something wrong with the baby, and the midwife didn't know what to do. Some folks said it was for the best, but I can't hold to that. A baby dying never seems right ... no matter how it was brought into the world:' His sigh came heavy. "Miss Matthews mostly keeps to herself now. She comes into town every so often, but I don't know how much contact she has with other folks." He looked up and came to his feet.

  Molly turned to see Charlie and Lori Beth coming their way. Her hands still shaking, she sat up straighter and tried to put on a pleasant countenance. But all she could think about was Lori Beth's baby lying somewhere in the cold dark ground. She covered her midsection, as though she could shield her own baby from a similar fate.

  Charlie and Lori Beth joined them at the table, laughing, plates piled high.

  "This all looks mighty good;' Charlie said, holding Lori Beth's chair out.

  "Yes, it does:" Lori Beth beamed up at him. "I've never seen so much delicious-looking food:"

  James took his seat. "Charlie, it's good to see you. Miss Matthews ... good evening to you, ma'am."

  "Good evening, Sheriff McPherson." Lori Beth unfolded her napkin, pausing in the act. "If I could, Sheriff... I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for your kindness and that of your friend, Mr. Ranslett, earlier this summer. The elk meat you left at my door was delicious:"

  Surprise sharpened James's features.

  Molly stared, waiting for him to respond. But he didn't, which wasn't like him. If she read him right, he'd thought the meat had been left anonymously. But apparently that hadn't been the case. And for some reason, that caught him off guard.

  As if eager to cover the sudden silence, Lori Beth motioned to Molly's plate. "You haven't eaten much, Molly. Are you feeling all right?"

  Struggling to hold herself together, Molly nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm fine:" But her voice came out stilted and unconvincing.

  Lori Beth held her gaze, then looked at James, then back at Mollyand slowly lowered her eyes.

  James rose. "If you'll excuse me, I should probably go help with what- ever's coming next. Either that, or risk Mayor Davenport trying to speak again:"That drew laughter, but only from Charlie. James touched Molly's shoulder. "I'll see you before you leave tonight, Mrs. Whitcomb:"

  Feeling his abrupt departure, and judging from Lori Beth's expression that she did too, Molly watched him work his way through the crowd. As always, he couldn't take four steps without someone shaking his hand or speaking to him. Mrs. Spivey approached him again, her lovely niece beside her, and Molly forced herself to turn back around, only too aware of Lori Beth's silent attention-and of her own feelings toward the woman now that she knew the truth.

  She told herself she would have treated Lori Beth the very sameboth outside Hank Bolden's store and again here tonight-even if she'd known. But glancing around them now, catching the subtle disapproving stares their table drew, she wasn't so sure. So this is what it would be like if people knew. No ...

  What it will be like, when they do.

  A sudden streak of color screamed across the dark night sky, followed by thunderous cracks and pops. Sparkling trails of red, white, yellow, blue, and green rained down over the field, and everyone clapped, oohing and ahhing, as more fireworks launched and exploded in marvels of rainbow color.

  But all Molly wanted to do was leave.

  When the festivities were over, she spotted Dr. Brookston a few tables away. He saw her and pointed toward the wagons, raising a brow. She nodded and indicated she would walk on. Turning, she glimpsed James too, across the field, with Miss Stafford glued to his side.

  Head down, she blended in with others walking in the direction of the church and kept to herself, mindful of the animals having been there. A light wind kicked up and she pulled her coat collar closer about her neck.

  Then she felt it, something on her cheek. She paused and looked up.

  Snow.

  Tiny flakes drifted down, swirling and twirling on the wind. One landed on her lip and she licked it off. Her first snowfall in Timber Ridge. And the first in the new state of Colorado.

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Whitcomb:" Dr. Brookston ran up behind her, out of breath. "I got stopped by Mrs. Calhoun. God love that woman, but you ask her what time it is and she tells you how the clock was made:'

  Molly forced a smile as he helped her into the wagon.

  He glanced up. "Looks like winter's here. We get a good deal more snow than Georgia does, so I hope you're ready."

  Molly managed polite conversation on the way home.

  Later, lying in bed, she finally fell into a fitful sleep only to awaken, thinking of Lori Beth and realizing how brave a woman she was. Far braver than she herself. Molly turned onto her side, unable to get warm. She hadn't taken the time to fill the bed warmer with hot coals and regretted it now.

  Somewhere there was a man-perhaps still living in Timber Ridgewho had fathered Lori Beth's baby. He had let her carry the child, give birth to the child, and live with the public disgrace of it all. Just as Jeremy had done with her.

  And as if that hadn't been enough, Lori Beth had stood by a tiny grave and buried a part of herself. And that man had allowed her to go through all of it-alone.

  She tried to go back to sleep, and couldn't. She checked the clock. It was just after midnight but seemed much later. She needed to use the chamber pot but debated, weighing her need against the chill out from under the covers. Finally discomfort won out.

  She crawled from bed and slipped into her robe, the cold wooden planks prickling the soles of her feet. She made use of the chamber pot, then stoked the dying embers in the hearth and added two more logs. Stretching out her arms, she soaked up the warmth from the flames. Then cocked her head to one side, thinking she heard something.

  She crossed to the window overlooking the stream behind the cabin and edged back the curtain. Her soft gasp fogged the icy pane. The world was draped in a blanket of white! She hunched closer to the window, careful not to touch the freezing glass. She couldn't believe how bright it was outside, and with a light snow still falling.

  There. A jingle. She heard it again.

  A knock on the do
or nearly sent her out of her skin.

  Scared motionless at first, she grabbed the fire poker and wielded it where she stood. "Who is it?"

  "It's James"

  Still shaking, she clutched her makeshift weapon, having half a mind to brain the man with it for scaring her like that. What was he doing out at this time of night anyway? She returned the poker to its place and secured her robe, recalling what she'd promised herself, and more importantly, what she'd promised God, earlier that evening.

  Bracing herself for more than just the cold, she pulled the door open and stepped back as snow drifted in. James was covered in it and held a bundle beneath his arm.

  "Are you going to invite me in, or would you rather talk out here?"

  Smiling, she motioned him inside and shut the door. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

  He lowered the scarf from his face, his slightest movement scattering snow everywhere. "It took me a while to get everything together" He pointed to the table. "May I?"

  Uncertain, she nodded.

  He unwrapped the bundle that turned out to be a blanket stuffed with clothes. Mostly men's clothes from what she could tell, along with a scarf, gloves, thick woolen socks, and boots.

  "These are for you. And you've got ten minutes to get dressed:"

  She stared. "To get dressed? For what?"

  Tugging off his glove, he led her by the hand to the front window and pushed back the curtain. She couldn't see anything at first-frost covered the pane-but he wiped it away. She took a closer look ... and couldn't believe her eyes.

  32

  ames tucked the blanket around Molly until only her eyes showed beneath the bundle of clothing and scarves and blankets. He wanted her to be warm, and he wanted to be next to her. Especially tonight.

  He climbed into the sleigh and she tugged the blanket up over him, then tucked it between them, her eyes smiling. He gave the reins a whip and the horses responded.

  Snow drifted down without a hint of wind. The night was absolutely still, perfect, the only sound the muted tamp of horses' hooves and the soft jingle of bells. Two oil lamps adorned the front of the sleigh, but he hadn't bothered lighting them. With the moonlight reflecting off the world of white, the lamps weren't needed.