Texan's Touch

FIFTEEN

NICHOLE SLEPT THROUGH Dancing’s funeral. Only Adam, Rose, and Sister Cel attended. Bergette refused to even discuss the possibility of going, and Mrs. Jamison wouldn’t let Nance out of the house. Nichole knew she couldn’t attend, so after they left, she curled into the little bed in Adam’s old study and fell into a deep sleep. The night’s adventure had eased her sorrow and made her feel alive again.

When the sun was high, she came awake with a jerk at the sound of Bergette’s voice close by, too close.

“What do you mean I shouldn’t be in here?” Bergette shouted loud enough for the entire house to hear.

Adam’s low voice reached Nichole as she slipped from the covers and moved behind the open door. Through the crack, she could see Bergette standing over Adam who lay atop his covers fully dressed.

“I’m trying to take a nap, Bergette,” he said in a voice that left considerable doubt that he’d been asleep when she barged into his room. “I didn’t go to bed last night and I’d like to sleep an hour before I start seeing patients.”

“Oh, forgive me.” She pouted. “I forgot you were up all hours, first with the whores and then the undertaker. It seems you have time to talk to everyone in this town but your fiancée. Well, I’ve had enough. I don’t care how tired you are, it’s time we had a few words.”

“You talk,” he mumbled. “You seem a lot better at talking than listening. But can’t we move somewhere else besides my bedroom? Bergette, it isn’t proper.”

She laughed. “Are you suggesting that I wouldn’t be safe in here alone with you? What a joke. You haven’t made any effort to so much as touch my hand since I’ve been here. I find it very unlikely you’d attack me in passion’s fever now.”

“I played that game when I returned from the war. Remember, you pushed me away.” He leaned on one elbow and resigned himself to having to talk to her. “I’d wasted years thinking of coming home to you and all you thought about was that my clothes were dusty.”

“Well, a girl should never make it easy. I’m not some old maid who would jump in your arms despite what people would say. That doesn’t mean I planned for you to stop trying.”

“What people? We were alone in your house when you ran down the stairs and stopped just short of my arms.”

“There were the servants,” Bergette defended. “I hoped you’d try again when we were alone and in more proper surroundings.”

“Did you?” he asked. “Do you want me to keep trying, now? A bedroom seems the right surroundings.” He made no move toward her. “Or do you simply enjoy the control as you enjoy controlling everything around you? The day I came home it seemed we were never alone, nor did you make any plans to be. Tell me, Bergette, what is it you wish me to do? Crawl at your feet and beg for a touch, a kiss, any scrap of feeling you have inside?”

“Nothing. I want nothing from you if I have to tell you what to do.” She paced beside his bed, her silk skirts making a swishing sound as they brushed his quilt. “I’ve come to a conclusion about you, dear Adam. I understand that there are some men who are not turned toward wanting women. They might not even know it themselves until they’re in the army, or something.”

Adam laughed. “You think I’m a man who doesn’t like women?”

“It wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” she answered quickly. “We could still be married. You could live your life, and I could live mine. I understand many of the royalty in Europe live apart and are happily married. When my father dies, I’d see that you have a fair allowance. You can go about healing all kinds of trash, and I can go about my pleasures.”

“You’re not saying you want a marriage in name only?” Adam looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d always thought her cold, but not that cold. “Surely there are hundreds of men standing in line to love and marry you, Bergette?”

“I’ve looked!” she snapped before she realized what she said. Then her pride wouldn’t allow her to back down. “Do you honestly think I would have waited for you if there had been a man worth having? I don’t want to be passed from my father to a husband to be regarded as only something pretty to decorate a house. If we married with an understanding, I could be respectable and still travel and shop and go to parties with an escort.” She smiled and lowered her voice. “You’re a doctor. You could make sure there were no children born.”

Adam couldn’t hide his laughter. “But you see, dear Bergette, I want a wife in my bedroom as well as in my life, and I want children, dozens of them.”

She stopped and stared at him a moment. “I would agree to share your bed occasionally, and we could talk about children later, after we’ve been married a while.”

“But I wouldn’t share a bed with you.” He crossed his arms and leaned back on the pillows.

“Now, are you saying you wouldn’t sleep with me?” Her eyes opened in shock.

“That is exactly what I’m saying. Not even at gunpoint. Not even if it were my last night on earth.”

Bergette stomped her foot. “Then something is wrong with you. You’re not a man. Something is missing inside you, Adam McLain. All you think of is your work and your studies. That isn’t normal.”

Adam looked at her with anger in his eyes for the first time. “Nothing’s missing in me just because I think I can live without you in my life.” There was something missing, he thought, only Bergette couldn’t fill the void.

She saw doubt blink in his gaze and jumped on it with hope. “Yes, it is, Adam. You try as hard as you want to help others, you study without sleep, but you’ll never find what you’re looking for.” She smiled, hoping she was hurting him. “There’s no fire inside you. No man beneath the blood and bone. You look whole, but the war crippled you as surely as if you’d returned on crutches.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Then prove it,” she challenged. “Take me in your arms and kiss me. Take me to your bed, and we’ll seal our marriage right now. You’ll never find anyone more beautiful or more generous once we’re married. Take me in your arms and prove you’re a man. Prove you’re a man with an ounce of passion running in your blood.”

She held her arms open as if she were a saint sacrificing herself to save one poor soul.

“Stop it!” Adam turned away in disgust.

Bergette pulled the laces of her bodice open, revealing most of her well-powdered breasts as she moved before him once more. “Go ahead, prove you’re a man, Adam. Take me.”

“Get out, Bergette.”

His whisper was so low Nichole barely heard him but she could feel the anger in him from a room away.

“What’s the matter?” Bergette leaned forward, knowing the front of her dress would pull open slightly. “Haven’t you ever had a woman? Don’t worry, I’ll teach you what to do. I didn’t spend all the war locked away waiting for you.”

“Get out,” he said again in controlled fury.

“Or are you afraid you can’t satisfy me? You’re not man enough to even kiss me. Wait until everyone hears about you back home. One of the McLains isn’t a man at all but only a shell.”

Adam stood and opened the door with forced slowness. “Good day, Bergette.”

Bergette laughed. “You can’t even bring yourself to kiss me. I feel so sorry for you, Adam.”

“Good-bye.” His knuckles whitened on the doorknob.

“It’s not good-bye. I plan to stay another three weeks and have lots of talks with you.” She moved out the door. “We’ll discuss every detail of this problem.”

Adam closed the door behind her and turned the lock, then closed his eyes and leaned against the wood. His dream, his perfect woman, had turned to a monster even fairy tales couldn’t describe.

Nichole moved from the study. She didn’t know what to say. Bergette had hurt him, but he’d allowed her to without striking back. She would have cut the woman in half if she’d been Adam. But he’d stood the insults. In some strange way, he seemed the stronger for it. It would have been easy to kiss her and end her protest, or slap her and send her screaming from the room, but he hadn’t. And he hadn’t yelled or threatened to strike her. What Bergette saw as weakness Nichole suddenly realized was strength. A kind of strength proven only to himself.

“I forgot you were there,” he whispered when he opened his eyes and saw her at the doorway.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. She woke me up.”

They looked at one another, not knowing what to say. His brown eyes seemed full of pain and she had no idea what medicine could help him.

Slowly, Adam walked to her and circled his fingers around the back of her neck.

“Your hair is all a mess of curls.” He brushed the back of her head with his hand.

She looked down for a moment. “I didn’t comb-” When her gaze met his once more she forgot what she’d been saying.

With a sudden move, he pulled her to him and kissed her fully on the mouth.

Nichole pulled away. “Don’t,” she said. “I don’t know how to play games.”

“I’m not playing any game.” His hand still rested on the back of her neck.

There was loss in his eyes, and pain, and anger. He was searching.

“Then don’t try to prove something to yourself, Adam. You’re not really kissing me, you’re simply not kissing Bergette.” Nichole wanted her own kisses, not those denied his first love.

Adam slammed his fist into the wall behind her head. “I-” He couldn’t put his feeling into words. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his lips against hers with bruising force.

Nichole shoved with all her strength and broke the hold, then slapped him hard across the face. She felt herself boiling over inside. She wanted Adam to hold her, but not this way. Not to prove something to himself.

Without a word, she ran back into the study and closed the door. There was no lock, but she knew he wouldn’t come in. She crawled into her covers feeling cheap and used. He’d kissed her because she’d been there and because he was angry and hurt. Somehow the kiss that had been so perfect before had soured and turned ugly.

Half an hour later someone tapped lightly on her door. When she didn’t answer, Sister Cel opened the door and placed a tray of food by her bed.

Nichole was awake, but she didn’t want to face anyone, not even the nun. By midafternoon, she gave up sleeping. There was no reason to cross over to the examining room. Dancing wasn’t there. So she began to pace, feeling very much like a caged animal.

“Nick?” Nance whispered from the doorway to the bedroom. “Nick, are you in here?”

She stepped from the shadows. “What is it, General Ears. You got news?”

“I got news like you wouldn’t believe. Lots of talk going round today. Some of the things Miss Bergette is saying I wouldn’t repeat to my own mother, ’course I don’t have to since that’s who Miss Bergette is telling them to. But first, Doc needs to see you if you can cross the hall safely, but he said don’t take any chances.” Nance added, “He said, ‘Please come.’”

She pulled on her coat and shoved her hair behind her ears. “I’ll come. Give me the sign.”

Nance stepped into the hallway where she could see him. After a few minutes, he rubbed his hand, with fingers spread wide, across his chest.

Nichole moved into the hallway. A moment later, she disappeared into the back room of Adam’s office.

Rose, Dancing’s friend, sat alone, fiddling with her dress as though the extra layer of clothing was uncomfortable. She looked up when Nichole entered and smiled her wide smile. “There you are, honey.” She cocked her head sideways, sending hair flying around her shoulders. “I was wondering where you disappeared to. When you weren’t at the funeral, I figured you had your reasons.”

“Is something wrong?” Nichole noticed a bruise covered with powder. “Mole hasn’t hit you again.”

“No, I’m fine. I went over to my bedroom and collected my things after the funeral. I knew Mole would be down opening the bar.” She smiled. “I ain’t working for him no more. In fact, I’m getting out of the business for good. When Dancing and I left home, I was a pretty fair cook, so I thought I’d come here and ask the doc for a job. Mole will kill me too if I stay with him, and I ain’t ready to meet my Maker yet. Have to do a few hundred good deeds to balance out the scale, you know.”

“What did Adam say?” Nichole wanted to hear about Mole and what he found in his saloon, but she couldn’t come right out and ask.

“He said he had a few people to talk to at the sheriff’s office, then he’d talk to me. He told Nance to go fetch you and Sister and to tell you both that he’d be back in a few minutes.” She tried to straighten her hair. “I know I don’t look respectable, but I’ll work on it.”

“You look fine,” Nichole lied. She didn’t even want to think about how Bergette would yell if the doc hired Rose for a cook. Bergette’s favorite hobby, besides picking on Adam, was complaining about Lily’s cooking.

“While I was packing up my things, I got to thinking about you. You were in this room with Dancing and you fought for her, but you didn’t come to the funeral. When the doc talked to the sheriff, he left out you even being in the room when Mole came in. Mole was so drunk, he couldn’t remember what happened.” She raised one painted eyebrow. “You do a good job of dressing like a man, but one good look told me you were a woman. So I figure you got your share of reasons and secrets.”

“I do.” Nichole moved closer, wondering if the woman would attempt blackmail.

The redhead watched her closely. “I also figure it’s none of my business.”

“You’re right,” Adam answered from the doorway. “I ask you never to mention that you saw Nick. She’s our guest here, our secret guest.”

“I never saw her.” Rose winked at Nichole. “I got books full of things I never saw. Fact is, in my life I don’t see more than I do see, if you know what I mean.”

Adam moved to the washstand and scrubbed his hands. “What can I do for you, Rose?”

She straightened. “I come to ask for a job. I’m a fine cook. My ma was a cook for a big house, and she taught me.”

Adam lifted a towel and dried his hands. “I don’t do the hiring around here.” He looked up as the nun entered the room and closed the door behind her. “What do you think, Sister, do we need a cook?”

Rose lowered her head, her hopes disappearing before the aging nun.

Sister Cel shook her head. “After the fit Miss Bergette threw about your treating the ladies of the evening, she wouldn’t have a chance. Which is a shame, because Charles and Lily argue over every bean that goes in a pot. Seems both think they’re above cooking and have too many duties already. My cooking is far too plain to satisfy the lady upstairs.”

Rose looked up with hope in her eyes. “I ain’t a… you know… I ain’t one of those no more, Sister. But I got to have work, or I’ll be on the streets starving. You folks were the only ones I have to turn to. You’re the only ones who have ever helped women like Dancing and me. All the girls talk about how the doc treats them like they was a lady, and how Sister gives them sweets when they leave, like they was Sunday company come to visit. And this here invisible woman fought for us. No one’s ever fought for-”

“Hush,” Sister Cel ordered in a gruff tone that didn’t reflect in her face.

Adam smiled. “You give them sweets, Sister?” He couldn’t hold his laughter when the nun blushed.

“I might have. Don’t concern yourself with the workings of others, Doctor.”

The old woman never gave him an inch. She might toss her undying loyalty to Nick at first glance, but she would challenge him at every turn. He couldn’t decide if she liked him and was trying to hide it, or only tolerated him.

“Of course,” he answered. “This house is bulging at the seams with secrets. Why should we not add another?”

Sister Cel faced him directly. “I agree. There is always room for one more.” She looked at Rose. “Can you wash that color out of your hair?”

“Yes,” Rose whispered. “I worked real hard getting it in, but half a bar of lye should chase it away.”

“Even if we could get her looking like a cook, where’s she going to sleep?” Adam couldn’t believe they were adding another to their number.

“I’ll sleep on a cot in the kitchen.” Rose looked excited. “And I’ll work for room and board. I wouldn’t expect no pay.”

“This is insane.” Adam glanced at Nichole for her opinion.

“I heard Bergette say she’d be gone in three weeks and I’ll be leaving as soon as Wolf comes. Then you’ll have plenty of room.” Nichole shrugged. “If you had a cook, Sister could help more with the patients.”

“But I’ll only stay while I’m needed,” Sister Cel added. “I didn’t sign on for a full tour of duty.”

“All right,” Adam gave in. “Get her looking respectable. I’ll talk to Mrs. Jamison.” He pointed at Rose. “But remember, nothing about Nick being here. As far as you’re concerned she’s a ghost in this house… and no drinking.”

“I don’t even see her now. But I do tend to cook more than folks will eat.” Rose lifted her chin proudly. She not only would have a respectable job, she’d be entrusted with a secret and that was a great honor. “As for drinking, I promise not more than one after sundown. My ma always said not to go too far with redemption, or salting.”

“Fair enough.” Adam offered his hand. “Welcome.”

The nun led Rose upstairs to clean off the paint and powder and dig through boxes of old dresses Mrs. Jamison kept in the storage room. Adam and Nichole were left alone.

He moved to the window and looked out, as if there were something to watch. “I don’t know what to say about what happened between us this morning.” He hesitated with each word.

“It isn’t necessary to say anything,” she answered, feeling his hurt as she’d felt it earlier in the bedroom when Bergette had tormented him.

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’d say I’m sorry, but it would be a lie. I’ve wanted to kiss you again since that first night.”

“Why didn’t you?”

How could he explain how different they were, how they didn’t belong in the same world? She was just visiting his, no more. And he no longer believed in love, or living a life with another. Bergette had taught him that all too clearly. If he pulled Nichole as close as he wanted to, he wasn’t sure he’d have enough heart left to pump blood when she walked out of his life.

“I’ll make you a promise,” he whispered. “I’ll not touch you again no matter how much I want to. You’ll have no fear of me.”

“I have no fear of you now,” she answered, shoving her hands into her pockets.

“I’m glad I didn’t destroy that between us.” He looked at her, wanting to clear the air. Too much of their lives had crossed for them to part as strangers. “Any questions? Or any more you want me to promise for the remainder of your stay?”

Nichole smiled and moved to stand beside him. “Only one. How about me touching you? Is my behavior part of your promise?”

Adam relaxed a little. “No. It doesn’t figure in. Any time you like, I’m available. And unlike Bergette, you’ll never have to ask, just make a move. Being close enough to touch you would be a pleasure.”

Nichole wasn’t joking. But she’d take him up on his offer some other time. First things first. “Mind telling me what the deputy needed? Any word on the stagecoach attack?”

“No. But I thought I saw a paint horse tied around back of his office. After we talked I went to look, but it was gone. Probably not the one you saw that was with the raiders. There are lots of paints.”

“So what was so important that Russell had to see you right away?”

“He only wanted to know where I’d been early this morning after Dancing died. The undertaker said I’d been with him so that ended my being questioned. It seems someone broke into Mole’s saloon and did quite a bit of damage.” He looked at her closely. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Sure. I crawled out the window of your office, snuck into Mole’s bedroom across the way, stole the keys and broke into his place just before dawn. Then, of course, I retraced my steps and put the keys back while he slept nude only inches away, snoring like a pig.”

Adam laughed. “Sure you did, Nick. Sure you did. And I’ve no doubt Sister went along as your sidekick.”

He walked out of the room still laughing. Nichole shrugged her shoulders. “So much for honesty.”

An hour later, Nichole hid behind the door and watched Mrs. Jamison meet Rose, a silent little woman who looked like she’d been raised in a girls’ boarding school. Her hair was brown, her face scrubbed, her dress only slightly reminiscent of a gown Mrs. Jamison had worn years ago.

Within minutes Mrs. Jamison welcomed her and turned the duties of the kitchen over to her. By noon, Rose had prepared a simple but hearty meal, and by dinner the smell of fresh-baked bread filled the house. Even Bergette approved of Rose’s cooking, but complained that now she’d gain weight.

When the house settled down for the night, Nichole slipped up to the tiny attic room and dressed in black. As soon as the doctor’s light went out, she had another mission.