Heidi Vanlandingham - Lucie: Bride of Tennessee (American Mail-Order Bride 16) Page 5

  Lucie continued to start at the empty doorway after Martha left, unable to shake the feeling that the last thing Stella would do was forget.

  * * *

  Sebastian stared at the woman across the room. With a beautiful smile, Lucie carefully placed a large steak in front of the sheriff then gave him a bowl full of cherry cobbler. She walked to the bar and picked up the coffeepot, filling up several people’s cups along the way. Topping off the sheriff’s cup, he was close enough to hear her soft lilting voice as she asked if he needed anything else.

  Shaking his head, the sheriff stabbed a piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth with an appreciative groan. She patted his shoulder and walked over, handing the pot to the barkeeper so he could set it back on the stove to keep it warm.

  Sebastian strode over to the long counter, his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

  Lucie whirled around, eyes wide. He liked the way her cheeks turned a light pink. His fingers itched to smooth out the small creases between her eyebrows, knowing her skin would be as soft as he imagined it to be. Disgusted with his wayward thoughts, he shoved the unwanted sentiments away and narrowed his eyes again.

  “Should you be up and around yet? You took quite a beating.”

  “I’m just filling in today for one of the waitresses. I’m tired of sitting upstairs with nothing to do. I needed to get up and move around…and to try to figure out what my brother and I should do next.”

  Guilt filled his chest, and with a heavy dose of self-loathing, he cleared his throat. She wasn’t an employee, nor was he talking to one of his usual customers at this time of the day, drunk and unruly. Life had dealt Lucie and her brother a raw hand. He couldn’t help but think she was in over her head, trying to take care of herself and Alex. Instead of antagonizing her, he should be treating her with compassion.

  He tried to force his mouth into the unnatural lift of a smile and hoped he didn’t look like he was about to be sick. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across like a bear. I was simply concerned that you would wear yourself out. The lunch crowd can be hard to handle alone, and you’re just now recovering from your ordeal. Let’s begin again, shall we? Would you like to keep filling in? I’m sure the staff would appreciate the extra help.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. “Really? Are you offering me a job?”

  “Yes, I guess I am. If that’s what you would like to do.” He tilted his head as he stared at left side of her face, now an ugly green shade with hints of yellow nearer to her eye from the attack. The right side of her face was just as pretty as before, but the bruises didn’t matter. He was finding out Lucie was just as pretty on the inside as she normally was on the outside. “Your bruises are fading nicely.”

  She touched the darkest spot high on her cheek. “I look terrible, but thank you. And my answer is yes. I’ve enjoyed helping.” She fidgeted, her fingers nervously plucking at her collar. She cleared her throat, her gaze on his boots instead of his face. “Thank you for your concern, but there are tables I need to be tending to.”

  Before he could respond, she turned and walked over to a table filled with some of the railroad workers, most he recognized. Holding her head high, she gave each man a small smile. He watched in amazement as their faces transformed. To them, and maybe himself, she was a breath of fresh air, giving every man a sense of self-worth and a crumb of happiness in their otherwise hard lives.

  “She’s a keeper, son,” John mumbled next to him.

  Startled, he hadn’t even realized the man had finished his meal much less walked right up to him. He turned and gave his friend a hard stare. “Excuse me?”

  John motioned with a quick tilt of his head toward Lucie. “That there is one special little lady. If you ask me, you’d be stupid to let her slip through your fingers.”

  Irritation welled up from somewhere deep inside him. He wished everyone would stop telling him what he should do regarding his daughter. He couldn’t take the risk of another marriage. He didn’t know if he could go through that pain a second time. “Well, I didn’t ask you. Besides, you’re the last person I’d take advice from regarding women. How long have you been pining after my mother?”

  The sheriff’s expression hardened as he took a step toward Sebastian, his thick finger poking him in the middle of his chest. “Now, you leave your mother out of this. What goes on between her and me is none of your business. Besides, I would think you’d have a bit more compassion for that little lady since she’s in the same boat you are, Sebastian. Lucie’s raisin’ a child by herself. And no one has given her anything to help pay the way. You have this hotel, but she’s been struggling without any help at all.”

  John started to walk away then stopped, looking at him over his shoulder. “I always admired your gumption, taking on this place after your father almost destroyed it. But over the last year, I’ve watched you build a wall around yourself. You need to stop and ask what you’re running from, Sebastian. Life’s too short to waste time on things you can’t change.”

  Bothered by his friend’s unusual outburst, he turned and headed upstairs. Stopping at his mother’s door, he hesitated, his knuckles resting against the dark wood. He hadn’t been with a woman since his wife had left town. But was that his problem now? What if John was right…what if he was running from something?

  He didn’t socialize with people. All of his free time was spent with his daughter. To make their lives easier since his wife left them, he and Stella had even started eating most of their meals here at the hotel.

  His own father had rarely spent time with him, so he wasn’t really sure how to be a good father. But the sheriff had always been there when he needed him. John had taught him how to be a man, fair and understanding, yet firm and strong. He taught him to believe in himself. Without John’s help, he’d never have been able to save the hotel after his father gambled away the profits.

  He took a deep breath and softly knocked then waited for his mother to answer. The door silently swung open, and her face brightened into a wide smile. “Sebastian!” She moved over, opening the door wider and motioned with a sweep of her hand for him to enter. “I was just sitting down to tea—would you like some?”

  He nodded, his thoughts rioting around in his mind until his head hurt. He took the white porcelain cup and drank, the liquid scalding its way down his throat. He didn’t care though; the pain helped to clear his mind. He set the empty cup down and met his mother’s questioning gaze.

  “You never come to see me in the middle of the day, so what is the problem?” she asked, staring at him over her teacup.

  He stared at the gold band she still wore on her finger. All these years, he’d never stopped to wonder why she didn’t take it off. “Why do you still wear your wedding ring?”

  A frown marred her perfect features. “After all these years, why are you asking me that now?”

  He shrugged. “I hate to say this, but I’ve never really taken the time to stop and notice. I saw the gold band and asked.”

  She pinched her lips closed and set the cup on the low table between them. “There are several reasons why I still wear it, I suppose. I’ve worn it so long, it’s part of me—who I am. Until I know for sure your father is dead—”

  “He’s dead, Mother.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know that for certain. Besides, it also keeps unwanted men away.”

  He raised a sardonic brow. “Like the good Sheriff Gurley?”

  She blushed, which surprised him. He’d known John was sweet on his mother for the last ten years; however, he’d always assumed they never got together because John was shy, not because his mother pushed him away. A small fact he found quite interesting. “Why don’t you put the poor man out of his misery? He’s been in love with you for years.”

  She fidgeted with her skirt, arranging the folds until they lay perfect, then re-arranging them again. “I don’t know what you mean.” She narrowed her gaze at him and changed the subject. “Yo
u never answered the last time I asked, so I will ask again. Have you considered my suggestion?”

  He stayed silent, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. When his mother got a bee in her bonnet about something, it was just easier for him to agree and be done with it. Her mischievous expression made him nervous though.

  “You know I love you and want the best for you and Stella. And I normally would not tell you how to raise your daughter. But if you haven’t noticed, you’re raising her as a boy. Little girls don’t run around in pants, put frogs in other girls’ lunch pails, or want to go hunting. She should play with dolls and get excited about a new dress.”

  He stared at her, unable to blink, unable to move. Why was he reacting like this? He really didn’t feel well, and his lungs seized in his chest right along with his heart. He took a deep, calming breath before he said something he would later regret. He took another one for good measure. “Mother—”

  She held up her hand. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. Just promise me you will at least think about it. She needs you, Sebastian—so does Alex. And I think you need her.”

  He stood and headed for the door, but just before shutting it behind him, he stopped. “Fine, mother,” he said, hoping to mollify her for a little while longer. “I will think about it. But don’t get your hopes up.” He stomped down the stairs, his thoughts in turmoil. In a matter of a few weeks, his strict life had disappeared and had been replaced by chaos. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  He headed for the door, not paying attention to anything around him until he heard a low voice slur, “Come on, shweetheart, you an’ me. You’re not ugly and your figure ain’t bad. Could gain some weight, but then where I want to go, it won’t matter none.” The drunk man’s laughter was echoed by several other drunk railroad men around the room.

  “Let me go!” A familiar voice said between gasps.

  He slowly turned to see Lucie struggling in the embrace of a large man with a dirty red beard. What little skin showed was covered in soot as were his clothes. His hands groped Lucie’s chest as she jerked away. Fury raced through Sebastian as he fought for control.

  Lucie swung her elbow behind her and a loud cra-ack whipped through the room. The man dumped her on the floor at his feet while he screamed, holding his bloody nose. He pulled his foot back, aiming for Lucie as she scrambled to get out of the man’s way.

  “Touch her, and I will kill you with my bare hands,” Sebastian said, his voice low and filled with menace. The room stilled as everyone turned to see him standing in the open doorway. His reflection in the mirror across the room showed the sunlight from outside creating an aura around his large frame. His shadow trailed away from him across the floor.

  The man slowly dropped his booted foot to the ground and turned to face him. “Don’t think this has anythin’ to do with you, mister.” He ignored the older man sitting beside him frantically tugging on his sleeve. He jerked out of the man’s grasp and shoved him away.

  Sebastian took a few steps closer, his hands dangling by his sides. Not that it would do him any good, he didn’t carry a gun. If he needed a weapon, he used his fists. The only guns he owned were those his father left behind, which he kept under his bed at home.

  “So, a drunk imbecile pawing at an innocent girl whose only job is to serve you food and drink in my establishment isn’t my business?”

  The man glanced from table to table and took a hesitant step back, his face going slack as Sebastian’s words finally registered. “You’re McCord?”

  “I am. Now, I suggest you leave while you’re able.” Sebastian watched as Lucie scurried through the kitchen door. As the man walked by him, he reached out and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him onto the toes of his boots. He let his bottled fury show in his face as he glared into the man’s dirty face. “If I ever hear of you treating a woman like that again anywhere in or near Chattanooga, you will answer to me. Understand?” The drunk nodded, but his eyes bled anger.

  “And don’t ever come back into my place.” Sebastian tossed him through the doorway as if the man weighed no more than a bag of flour then turned back to the room. No one moved, only stared back at him. “That goes for the rest of you. You can eat my food and drink my liquor, maybe even sleep in a room upstairs, but my employees, men and woman alike, will be treated with dignity and respect or you will no longer be welcome at McCord’s.”

  He met each man’s gaze then strode out onto the sidewalk, his boots thumping loudly against the planks. The anger swirling through his mind and body slowly dissipated the further from the hotel he got. He’d walked more than an hour, not paying attention to the direction as his thoughts continually returned to the dark-haired beauty who had somehow wiggled her way into his life.

  Glancing up, he found himself standing in front of his small clapboard home. The anger he’d worked so hard to let go of immediately disappeared at the sight of his six-year-old daughter waving to him through the window. He crossed the street, but before he could make it to the porch stairs, she’d rushed through the front door and jumped into his arms.

  “Papa! I thought you’d never get here.”

  He kissed her sticky cheek and held her to him, the scent of apples filling his nostrils.

  Leaning back so he could see her face, he smiled. “Well, I’m here now.”

  Maybe they should move back in with is mother. At least he wouldn’t have to go through the pain of another marriage. His mother was wonderful with Stella; however, with them living here, she just wasn’t around her enough. If he could only convince himself that was true.

  Chapter Six

  Lucie pounded on the door, her nerves rioting out of control. No matter how many times Martha had asked her to treat the apartment as her own home, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Walking in just felt wrong somehow. She fought back the tears as her thoughts turned back to what had almost happened downstairs.

  She’d seen Sebastian walk through the room, his steps long and hurried and prayed that he would turn his head and notice her. She hadn’t wanted him to see her in such a precarious position, but not one man in the entire room had seemed to want to stand against the man holding her. The nightmare of what happened at Beauregard’s had slammed through her as if she were reliving it all over again.

  When Sebastian finally noticed what was going on, the look in his eyes as he stared at her in that man’s arms made her want to take a hot bath, scrubbing the filth from her skin. She held her hands out in front of her, almost seeing the grime. Her hands shook. She did her best to be a good person, putting her brother’s needs above her own and surviving the best she knew how…so why did bad things keep happening to her?

  The door opened and she glanced up. Martha’s smile slipped into a concerned frown as Lucie’s chin wobbled. The tears she’d tried so hard to blink away fell in rivers as she launched herself at the older woman, almost knocking her over. Martha closed the door and gently led her to the chaise and sat her down. Lucie felt the thin arm wrap around her shoulders, Martha’s hand rubbing her arm in comfort, as she cried out the pain and frustration of the last three years.

  “There, there, nothing better than a refreshing cry, now is there,” her soft voice cooed.

  Strong fingers ran through her hair, brushing the dark wayward strands away from Lucie’s face. Finally, the tears stopped, and she wiped away the remnants with her hands. Not wanting to leave the comfort of Martha’s embrace, she forced herself to sit up and move away, determined to get her emotions under control.

  “I’m sorry,” Lucie said in a shaky voice.

  “Pshaw. No need to apologize. Crying is a woman’s right. We shoulder many burdens and sometimes those feelings just come tumbling out whether we like it or not.” She reached over and patted Lucie’s hand. “Take a moment—you feel much lighter already, don’t you? Like a burden has been lifted from your shoulders?”

  “It does. I feel so much better.”

  Martha rounded up the dainty floral teapot
sitting on the stove in the small kitchen and poured them both a cup of steaming tea. Placing the cup in Lucie’s hands, she sat down again on the chaise beside her. “Now, tell me what happened to get you all worked up so.”

  Staring into the dark brown liquid, the image of Sebastian’s furious expression filled her mind. She closed her eyes and cradled the warm porcelain against her knees, praying she wouldn’t start crying again. Why it was so important to her for him to think of her in a positive way, she didn’t understand.

  “I was trying to take lunch orders when a man grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap.” With each word, her chin lowered until it almost rested against her collarbone. She pressed her lips together for a moment, trying to stop them from trembling. The last thing she wanted to do was cry again. She could barely breathe as it was.

  With a dainty sniff, she forced the rest of the story out with the hopes she’d feel better afterward. She didn’t. “The look in Sebastian’s eyes—he was so disgusted and angry.”

  Martha reached over and gently patted her arm. “Drink up. Tea is a wonderful remedy for nerves, especially if it’s nice and warm. I’ve found that if I drink one or two cups after a particular trying moment, I’m much calmer afterward and can look back and realize things weren’t as horrid as they seemed.”

  Lucie drank the now lukewarm liquid and placed the cup on the table in front of them, licking her lips. Sitting back, she gave Martha a small grin. “Are you always right?”

  The older woman nodded with a large smile. “Most of the time.” She laughed, the tinkle filling the room and relaxing Lucie’s jumbled nerves even more. “And don’t you worry about Sebastian. He was probably furious at the imbecile causing the problems in the first place. He knows none of this was your fault.”

  Lucie shook her head sadly. “Yes, but why does it keep happening? Do I have a sign somewhere I can’t see telling them to take advantage of me? That I’m young and naive?”