Shadows of Yesterday
Page 23
Suddenly she longed to touch him. He seemed to know that, for he came toward her and put a possessive arm around her waist, drawing her to his side. Forgiving him his deception and pushing her fears aside, she allowed her body to adjust to the length of his.
The hunger that radiated from his eyes when she looked up at him startled her. She saw a plea for patience, a promise.
“Oh, she truly is precious, Leigh,” Chad’s mother said of the baby. Glancing up, her eyes lit on someone behind Leigh and she said, “Stewart, come here.”
Leigh turned in the direction of the doorway and caught a soft gasp just before it escaped her. Her back stiffened. Chad squeezed her waist reassuringly.
Mr. Dillon stood under the archway leading into the hall. He was a large man. In his youth he would have been as brawny as Chad. His face had been lined by the elements and years of smiling broadly. Thick white hair crested on the top of his head from a receding hairline. He was propped on a crutch. And where his left leg should have been was an empty trouser leg, pinned together above his knee.
“Hello, son. Leigh?” he asked and she nodded. “It’s a pleasure.” Agilely he crossed the room and extended a callused hand to her. “Forgive me for not wearing my prosthesis, but in cold weather, it tends to be uncomfortable.”
“Mr. Dillon,” she said, smiling easily now and taking his hand. Her initial shock had been instantly replaced by well-bred manners. “Don’t apologize for wanting to be comfortable in your own home.”
“Call me Stewart,” he said. “You were right, son. She’s beautiful.” Leigh blushed and everyone laughed.
“He’s so annoying, Leigh,” Amelia said. “He wouldn’t tell us a thing about you. Not if you were blonde or brunette or short or tall. Nothing. All he said was that you were beautiful.”
“Let me see the baby, Amelia,” Stewart Dillon said, and his wife immediately obliged him. “You sure picked a pretty one to bring into the world, son,” he conceded, placing an affectionate hand on Chad’s arm. Leigh was struck by the evident love these people felt for each other.
Within a half-hour Leigh felt she had known the Dillons all her life, so welcome did they make her feel. The house was warm and reflected the friendliness of its owners. The floorboards creaked under the scatter rugs, with the pleasant sound of a house well used and well loved. Leigh had missed having a permanent home. Her father’s military career had kept them moving frequently throughout her childhood and youth. She had always envied the stability of families like the Dillons.
The fire popped cheerfully on the hearth while they sipped on a hot cranberry drink, the recipe of which was immediately supplied by Amelia at Leigh’s offhand wish that she had it. Sarah had been given a graham cracker, which she was gumming happily. Amelia had tied an apron around the baby’s neck to better protect her dress.
The living room was comfortably decorated with family memorabilia and hand-crocheted afghans and pictures of Chad in various stages of maturity. A huge Norfolk pine stood awaiting decoration in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Amelia didn’t refuse Leigh’s offer to help with getting “dinner” on the table. Leigh set the table and whipped the potatoes while answering Amelia’s friendly barrage of questions concerning herself and Sarah. While Stewart held Sarah on his lap, Chad was sent to the attic to bring down the boxed Christmas ornaments.
“While you’re up there, bring down that high chair, please,” his mother asked him.
He had to make several trips, but by the time he finished the chore, the meal was ready. “Wash up, Chad, and carry in the roast, please. Leigh, if you’ll get that gelatin salad out of the refrigerator, I’ll get Sarah situated in the high chair.”
“I’ve never put her in one before. She’s not sitting up by herself yet.”
“You leave it to me,” Amelia said confidently.
In the kitchen, Chad washed his hands at the sink while Leigh took off her borrowed apron and reached into the refrigerator to get the salad. The gelatin mold had been placed on a heavy crystal serving platter and required both hands to hold. Chad stepped in front of her as she made her way to the door.
“You look beautiful today, Leigh,” he said softly. “My parents like you, just as I knew they would.”
“I like them, too,” she answered lifting the heavy platter.
Unexpectedly his arms were around her waist, and he kissed her lightly despite the heavy platter that created a barrier between them. The sensations awakened by his touch threatened not only the already short lifespan of the salad, but her own determination to resist him. He was creating inside her a need for him that was consuming.
“Chad, get in here with that roast,” his mother called from the dining room.
“And you feel as good as you look,” he said in a low voice. He backed away, dropped his hand, grinned wickedly, and went to do his mother’s bidding. The gelatin was quivering unduly when Leigh set it on the table.
* * *
“I still don’t think it’s right,” Amelia repeated sanctimoniously. Ignoring her, Stewart continued to rub bourbon whiskey onto Sarah’s tender gums. “I don’t approve of hard liquor in any form, and especially for a baby.”
“This is for medicinal purposes,” Stewart said. He didn’t seem at all perturbed over Sarah’s slobbery chewing of his finger. “I did this to Chad when he was a baby. And I’ve seen you ladle whiskey and honey down his throat to stop a cough.”
Amelia had the grace to look embarrassed. “Leigh’s going to think we’re terrible.”
“No, I won’t,” she laughed, feeling relaxed after the hearty dinner and pleasant conversation the Dillons had kept up during the meal. “I guess I’m going to have to buy a bottle of bourbon.” She and Chad were sitting close together on the sofa. His arm was draped across her shoulders. Lazily his fingers trailed up and down her arm. She tried not to think about his audacious behavior in the kitchen. Each time she did, he seemed to know what was on her mind and would wink at her slyly.
Even during the sumptuous meal, he had tormented her. While he listened with rapt attention to his father’s report on the cattle business, he had massaged her leg just above her knees with a talented hand. It did her no good to dodge that hand. It seemed to be equipped with radar and she was its target. Finally she surrendered, and he seemed content to idly stroke her knee while it was pressed to his beneath the snowy tablecloth.
The hunger that radiated from his eyes when she looked up at him startled her. She saw a plea for patience, a promise.
“Oh, she truly is precious, Leigh,” Chad’s mother said of the baby. Glancing up, her eyes lit on someone behind Leigh and she said, “Stewart, come here.”
Leigh turned in the direction of the doorway and caught a soft gasp just before it escaped her. Her back stiffened. Chad squeezed her waist reassuringly.
Mr. Dillon stood under the archway leading into the hall. He was a large man. In his youth he would have been as brawny as Chad. His face had been lined by the elements and years of smiling broadly. Thick white hair crested on the top of his head from a receding hairline. He was propped on a crutch. And where his left leg should have been was an empty trouser leg, pinned together above his knee.
“Hello, son. Leigh?” he asked and she nodded. “It’s a pleasure.” Agilely he crossed the room and extended a callused hand to her. “Forgive me for not wearing my prosthesis, but in cold weather, it tends to be uncomfortable.”
“Mr. Dillon,” she said, smiling easily now and taking his hand. Her initial shock had been instantly replaced by well-bred manners. “Don’t apologize for wanting to be comfortable in your own home.”
“Call me Stewart,” he said. “You were right, son. She’s beautiful.” Leigh blushed and everyone laughed.
“He’s so annoying, Leigh,” Amelia said. “He wouldn’t tell us a thing about you. Not if you were blonde or brunette or short or tall. Nothing. All he said was that you were beautiful.”
“Let me see the baby, Amelia,” Stewart Dillon said, and his wife immediately obliged him. “You sure picked a pretty one to bring into the world, son,” he conceded, placing an affectionate hand on Chad’s arm. Leigh was struck by the evident love these people felt for each other.
Within a half-hour Leigh felt she had known the Dillons all her life, so welcome did they make her feel. The house was warm and reflected the friendliness of its owners. The floorboards creaked under the scatter rugs, with the pleasant sound of a house well used and well loved. Leigh had missed having a permanent home. Her father’s military career had kept them moving frequently throughout her childhood and youth. She had always envied the stability of families like the Dillons.
The fire popped cheerfully on the hearth while they sipped on a hot cranberry drink, the recipe of which was immediately supplied by Amelia at Leigh’s offhand wish that she had it. Sarah had been given a graham cracker, which she was gumming happily. Amelia had tied an apron around the baby’s neck to better protect her dress.
The living room was comfortably decorated with family memorabilia and hand-crocheted afghans and pictures of Chad in various stages of maturity. A huge Norfolk pine stood awaiting decoration in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Amelia didn’t refuse Leigh’s offer to help with getting “dinner” on the table. Leigh set the table and whipped the potatoes while answering Amelia’s friendly barrage of questions concerning herself and Sarah. While Stewart held Sarah on his lap, Chad was sent to the attic to bring down the boxed Christmas ornaments.
“While you’re up there, bring down that high chair, please,” his mother asked him.
He had to make several trips, but by the time he finished the chore, the meal was ready. “Wash up, Chad, and carry in the roast, please. Leigh, if you’ll get that gelatin salad out of the refrigerator, I’ll get Sarah situated in the high chair.”
“I’ve never put her in one before. She’s not sitting up by herself yet.”
“You leave it to me,” Amelia said confidently.
In the kitchen, Chad washed his hands at the sink while Leigh took off her borrowed apron and reached into the refrigerator to get the salad. The gelatin mold had been placed on a heavy crystal serving platter and required both hands to hold. Chad stepped in front of her as she made her way to the door.
“You look beautiful today, Leigh,” he said softly. “My parents like you, just as I knew they would.”
“I like them, too,” she answered lifting the heavy platter.
Unexpectedly his arms were around her waist, and he kissed her lightly despite the heavy platter that created a barrier between them. The sensations awakened by his touch threatened not only the already short lifespan of the salad, but her own determination to resist him. He was creating inside her a need for him that was consuming.
“Chad, get in here with that roast,” his mother called from the dining room.
“And you feel as good as you look,” he said in a low voice. He backed away, dropped his hand, grinned wickedly, and went to do his mother’s bidding. The gelatin was quivering unduly when Leigh set it on the table.
* * *
“I still don’t think it’s right,” Amelia repeated sanctimoniously. Ignoring her, Stewart continued to rub bourbon whiskey onto Sarah’s tender gums. “I don’t approve of hard liquor in any form, and especially for a baby.”
“This is for medicinal purposes,” Stewart said. He didn’t seem at all perturbed over Sarah’s slobbery chewing of his finger. “I did this to Chad when he was a baby. And I’ve seen you ladle whiskey and honey down his throat to stop a cough.”
Amelia had the grace to look embarrassed. “Leigh’s going to think we’re terrible.”
“No, I won’t,” she laughed, feeling relaxed after the hearty dinner and pleasant conversation the Dillons had kept up during the meal. “I guess I’m going to have to buy a bottle of bourbon.” She and Chad were sitting close together on the sofa. His arm was draped across her shoulders. Lazily his fingers trailed up and down her arm. She tried not to think about his audacious behavior in the kitchen. Each time she did, he seemed to know what was on her mind and would wink at her slyly.
Even during the sumptuous meal, he had tormented her. While he listened with rapt attention to his father’s report on the cattle business, he had massaged her leg just above her knees with a talented hand. It did her no good to dodge that hand. It seemed to be equipped with radar and she was its target. Finally she surrendered, and he seemed content to idly stroke her knee while it was pressed to his beneath the snowy tablecloth.
