Under the Summer Sky Read online

  The past few weeks had been long and hard, but for the moment Trinity was glad to set despondency aside and celebrate new life.

  And even happier to lift her mouth for yet another kiss.

  “What was that about?” Jones was holding Trinity’s arm as he walked her across the street to the café. The sounds of laughter drifting from the mercantile must have been puzzling the passersby. Of late, nothing but sadness had filled the shop.

  “I was purely caught up in the celebration,” she said. She’d been hoping he’d taken the spontaneous burst for what it was—pure excitement. But for her—and perhaps for him as well—the kiss had proven more exhilarating than the news that Mae was expecting.

  “Do you kiss everyone that way when you’re excited?”

  “What way?” She shrugged, feeling the blood rising to her cheeks in a way that had nothing to do with the intense heat of the summer day.

  They reached the café and he escorted her up the steps. “Remind me to tell you good news more often.”

  “Why, Mr. Jones!” She affected modesty, not feeling the slightest sense of respectability. “I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

  “And I do believe you’re enjoying it.”

  She grinned. The time for acting coy was past. She was falling for him. Deeply. Did he return the sentiment?

  Her footsteps slowed. His roguish grin and curly dark hair loosened her tongue. Why shouldn’t he know her scandalous thoughts?

  Because he might not reciprocate, common sense argued. But if he didn’t share her growing attraction…if he rode out…

  “Are you toying with me?”

  “Could be.” He flashed a grin. “You’re not married.”

  “Not even spoken for, but there does exist a certain lunacy at the thought of us…together. I live in Sioux Falls. You live…”

  His grin faded to a frustrated squint. “Chicago.”

  “Come with me.” Taking his hand, she pulled him into the café and marched him to the back wall, where a large map of the United States was hanging. She pointed at North Dakota. “Here we are, way up on the Piedmont Tributary.”

  His gaze followed her finger. “So?”

  “So.” Her finger slid to the right and then down to Illinois. “You live in Chicago. Would you not agree that it’s a long way to ride to go courting?”

  He studied the map and shrugged. “I haven’t said I want to court you.”

  “No. You haven’t. Nor have I indicated I was fond of the idea. I only mentioned it in case…in case you might be having reckless thoughts.” She wasn’t going to speak first. Her reckless thoughts would remain unspoken until he spoke his.

  “Like you are.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Your kiss did.”

  She blushed and caught the café owner’s attention. “Belle, I’ll need my room for another few days.”

  The woman nodded as she cleared a table. “Already put you down. Is Pauline…?”

  Why was everyone so afraid to say dead? Pauline was dying, after all. “She’s still with us.” Trinity closed her eyes and scratched her arm. She was coated in trail grime and every inch of her itched. “I need a hot bath and shampoo as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll draw your water.” Belle disappeared, and Trinity suddenly found herself caught in a pair of strong arms. She met Jones’s dancing eyes straight on. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?” Dare she hope he would be so bold as to steal another kiss?

  He dared.

  Lowering his head, Jones bent Trinity back and kissed her within an inch of her life. It was an intense kiss, almost challenging, and it made her head spin. When he released her she reached for the top of a chair for support. “What was that?” she said finally.

  Settling his hat on his head, he grinned. “Rebuttal.”

  Her hand lifted to cover her trembling lips as she watched the door close behind him.

  Was this a tribunal? If so, she was on his side.

  It was late in the afternoon when Jones wandered across the street to the mercantile. He’d meant to sleep a while, but he kept being wakened by images of Trinity. Was she actually suggesting that anything permanent could come of their unlikely friendship? A few days ago the answer would have been obvious—no. He wasn’t looking for a woman. But she had him thinking thoughts he didn’t want to think.

  A pale-faced Mae stood behind the postal cage, sipping what looked to be soda water.

  “Still feeling poorly?”

  Nodding, she lifted sick-looking eyes to him. “Still a bit under the weather.”

  “Do you feel up to sending a telegraph?”

  “Of course.” She stepped to the machine and picked up a pad. “To whom?”

  “Piedmont Bank.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  Leaning on the counter, he removed his hat. “I’ve been thinking. Pauline was wrong the first time about the deed’s location. It’s possible she’s mistaken again.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  He grinned. “Seems a reasonable assumption. She’s got a heart of gold, but you have to admit she can be confused sometimes.”

  “Often. She gets perplexed…”

  “It won’t hurt to send a message and ask if there’s an old lockbox lying in the vault with Pauline’s name on it. Who knows? The deed might be there.”

  Mae wrote the message, nodding as she did so. “It can’t hurt to try.” She ripped off the sheet, then stepped to the machine and clicked out a series of dots and dashes.

  Jones’s eyes traveled around the empty store. “Tom around?”

  “He’s working on the nursing home. He needs to keep busy.” She paused, thoughtful. “Pauline has become very dear to him. He’ll miss her.”

  “I suspect you all will.” He stopped by the root beer barrel and snagged a cold bottle. He fished in his pocket and dropped a coin on the counter on his way out. “Let me know when you hear back about that wire.”

  Nodding absently, she completed the message and then reached for the glass of soda water.

  Construction on the Pauline Wilson Rest Home was well underway. The fifteen-room building stretched along the waterfront. The racket of hammers and saws filled the air as Jones approached.

  Tom looked up with a grin when Jones found him framing in a hallway. “Here—hold this for me,” he said.

  Jones steadied the board as Tom nailed it in place. “How does it feel to be a new pa?” he asked.

  Pride broke out on Tom’s rugged features. “Can’t even explain it. It’s like comfortable shoes and Christmas morning all tied in a bundle.”

  Jones chuckled as Tom drove a nail into place. “I recall a time when you were more interested in wild oats than cradles.”

  “That was a long time ago. What do you think about the name Stephen?”

  “Sounds manly enough.”

  “Thomas Stephen.” He drove in another nail.

  “Might be a daughter.”

  “Could be…but it won’t be.” He flashed another smile. “I should head up and check on Mae.”

  “She’s fine. I just left her.”

  “Thought you were resting.”

  “Couldn’t, but I did some thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “About how Pauline means well, but we shouldn’t take her recollections seriously. She could be mistaken about the deed having been in Dwadlo’s bank. I took the liberty of sending a telegraph to the bank in Piedmont. Could be there’s something there that belongs to Pauline.”

  “Ah.” Tom’s hammer paused. “Trinity’s a good woman.”

  “She is.” He wasn’t going to elaborate. Good women were hard to come by. Most were controlling or nagging or just mean-spirited. He should stop letting his stepmother sour his views on womankind…but the thought of her had a way of making him pull back whenever a relationship got too intense.

  “You were lucky to find Mae.”

  “I’ve been blessed indeed, and
maybe the good Lord thinks it’s your time.” Tom reached for a nail. “What are the chances you’d be stopping by Dwadlo and find Trinity here?” He didn’t answer, and then Tom whistled, long and low. “What are the chances she’d stop by just as we’re talking about her?”

  Jones turned to see Trinity striding toward him, breathless. He walked over to meet her. “Is everything all right? Is Pauline… Is it time?”

  He met her dancing eyes, and for a moment he felt like a moth drawn to a flame. She handed him a scrap of paper. “It’s time. We hit pay dirt.”

  Eighteen

  Jones scanned the message, satisfaction spreading across his tanned features. “So Pauline does have a box in Piedmont.”

  Trinity couldn’t contain her excitement. “I say we leave right now.”

  Jones folded the message and frowned. “We can’t go now. Your aunt is near death.”

  Her smile faded. For a moment she had forgotten Aunt Pauline. “But we’ll go soon, after the…?” She didn’t want to say the word funeral.

  “Shouldn’t be much longer.” Tom reached for a handful of nails. “The train’s due in Sunday. By then, I imagine Pauline will be in the Lord’s presence.”

  True. And taking the train would be a lot easier than riding horseback. And if the deed was in the lockbox after all, their problems would be solved. She glanced at Jones. Well…one of their problems.

  She had to admit it—she wasn’t looking forward to leaving Dwadlo. The delay was almost welcome. She was enjoying Mae and Tom’s company, and Jeremy could fry the most delicious chicken she’d ever eaten, and even Lil had a certain bizarre fascination about her. Trinity had a hunch that if she stayed here much longer, that outrageous pig farmer might become one of her closest confidantes. Except she would never, under any circumstances, get on the back of that motorcycle again.

  Jones took her gently by the shoulders. “Don’t worry. The delay won’t be long.”

  Her eyes drank him in. He was becoming far too important to her, and still neither one had confessed their feelings. “I understand. I wasn’t thinking.” She forced a smile. Once she’d thought her lovely little room in Sioux Falls was a little slice of heaven, but maybe heaven wasn’t in Sioux Falls after all. She shook the silly notion aside. Once she had the money from the land she could live anywhere she wanted. Heaven on earth could be anywhere she chose to make it.

  Trouble was, she didn’t have the slightest idea where that might be.

  Only a sneaky idea of who she’d like to share it with.

  “This is going to take months.” Jones groaned, and then bent and sifted through the top layer of rubble, stepping back when the stench hit him. Fisk had been right: It would be impossible to find anything in this jumble, but it was worth looking before making the long trip to Piedmont. And besides, he had a feeling that if he didn’t finish his business here soon, he was going to get caught in a trap of his own building. Settling down was starting to sound nice.

  His gaze strayed to the post office porch, where Trinity and Mae sat talking. Too nice.

  Jones lifted a few boards and peered inside deep holes filled with mounds of wet papers, bank boxes, and broken sticks of furniture. He was searching for a miracle in a haystack.

  A pile of boards slid to the ground and he turned to see that Trinity had joined him.

  “I thought you were visiting with Mae.”

  “I was, but you don’t think I’d let you look through this alone, do you?”

  “Maybe I’m looking for something of mine.”

  “I think you’re looking for something of mine.”

  “Well, we can both forget the hunt. It’s impossible to find anything in this heap. You might as well go back and keep Mae company.”

  “She’s not doing anything but drinking soda water. The doctor told her this morning that she might feel better in a few months, but she could be queasy her whole term. Benjamin won’t let anyone near Pauline now that she’s awake, so other than watching the mercantile and post office, her duties are pretty slow. Seems Benjamin intends to use up all the allotted time he and Pauline have left together. They’re sweet, aren’t they?” She loosened a board and tossed it aside. “To think that he’s loved her all these years and they’re only now seeing that love bloom.”

  “I don’t recall Pauline saying that she’s open to any long-lost suitor.”

  “She’s a woman. She’s open…for the right person.” A grin hovered at the corners of her mouth. She was a romantic at heart, Jones realized. And maybe he was too. Seeing the old couple together did bring a lump to his throat.

  Working in silence, they absently sifted through the debris. What papers they found were wrinkled and water-stained beyond recognition. Anything that survived was far from legible. Jones finally acknowledged the obvious. “We’re not going to find it, Trinity.”

  “How long would it take to get a new deed—once Pauline is willing to sign?”

  “It depends, but it won’t be quick.” He straightened. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You have a job. How long can you stick around Dwadlo?”

  “No longer than this week.” She sighed. “I can get a few more days, but my boss is going to have to replace me if I’m not back by Monday.” She glanced up. “What about you?”

  “I have to leave now, or give the railroad a good reason why I’m still in Dwadlo.” He reached for her hand and helped her over a pile of rubble. They walked to the rain barrel and washed up. He wasn’t going to kid himself. Leaving her—and this town—was going to be rough. In the short time he’d been here this place had turned his life upside-down. He studied Trinity out of the corner of his eye. Was it the place that had changed him? Or the woman?

  He shook the water out of his hair. “Want a cold drink?”

  She cupped her hands full of water and doused him. “I’d love one.”

  In a few short minutes he’d gone to the mercantile for two cold bottles of soda and returned. They planted themselves in the grassy patch beneath the oak tree behind the store.

  “The shade feels good,” said Jones.

  Nodding, Trinity took a sip from the bottle. Her eyes darkened. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  The simplicity of her confession surprised him. The admission had to come hard for an independent woman like her.

  “Miss me? What’s that supposed to mean? Are you asking me to stay?”

  She tipped the soda bottle, her eyes meeting his. Then, lowering it, she whispered, “And if I did?”

  What could he say? He looked long and hard at her. “I’m going to miss you too.”

  A soft breath escaped her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Emotions played through his mind, feelings he’d never had before. He would miss her. He would miss the way her brows knitted together when she was thoughtful, the way her mouth lifted into corners and her cheeks pinked when she was teasing. But there was going to be a powerful lot of distance between them, and the likelihood of anything lasting happening between them seemed as remote as Pauline’s deed.

  “It means it doesn’t sound like either of us is in a hurry to go.”

  Draining their sodas, they shared a companionable silence. Birds sang overhead, and a thin layer of clouds lessened the afternoon heat. He should make a move. Do something. Leave, if he knew what was good for him. Stay, if he was a gambling man.

  Kiss her. Would she welcome the advance? No doubt she was warming to him in an unsettling way—which could be good or bad. Their kiss earlier had been due to the excitement of the day. Chances were she wouldn’t let him do it again.

  But more to the point, did he even want to get seriously involved—heart involved—with this woman? Two weeks ago he would have laughed at the notion. Marriage wasn’t for him—the regret and misery he’d seen in his pa’s eyes was testimony enough to that.

  And yet…she looked mighty
kissable at the moment, with flushed cheeks and the sunburned tip of her nose. He could easily take her into his arms. Wouldn’t mean anything but a warm summer afternoon dalliance. He wouldn’t be admitting to anything but being a red-blooded male.

  One harmless kiss.

  Little more than a peck.

  While he hesitated, she reached out and covered his mouth with hers. He instinctively pulled her closer, marveling at how right it felt to hold her. Her kisses were sweet and warm, and her hair was soft under his hand.

  “Well, lookee here!” cried a voice from the store. Jones and Trinity sprang apart, eyes wide.

  “Didn’t no one ever tell you it was rude to kiss in public?” said Lil, her mouth broken into a wide grin.

  Early Saturday morning, Pauline sat up and announced, “I’m hungry! Are you trying to starve a body?”

  Trinity, Mae, and Benjamin stumbled over one another to reach the kitchen and prepare a bowl of broth and hot tea. It was the first morsel the patient had eaten in days.

  It wasn’t long later that the doctor was straightening and shaking his head. “Fit as a fine-tuned fiddle.”

  A grin broke across Benjamin’s weathered features. “I told you she was hard to put down.”

  Not exactly a flattering term, but Trinity didn’t argue. She spooned warm broth into her aunt’s mouth, swiping at the tears that persisted in springing to her eyes. Thank You for allowing me more time with her.

  Pauline couldn’t live forever, but Trinity welcomed whatever weeks or months they were given.

  She made up her mind. She would quit her job in Sioux Falls and move to Dwadlo to be near her aunt. They’d become close—like real family. Trinity had told herself that family didn’t matter. After all, the Lord had taken her ma and pa home that day, so He must have known she didn’t need anyone but herself to get by. And she had gotten by. Although, if she was honest with herself, it had been an empty life until Jones had come along and stuffed her in that barrel. She’d thought it was the end of the world, but it had proven to be the start of a brand new future. A future with a family she’d never known she had.