Redemption. Carolyn Davidson
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There was nothing for it but to face the man in his lair, and hope he didn’t have a gun handy. If looks could kill, she’d be six feet deep in the churchyard tomorrow. Fortunately, she’d faced down more angry opponents in her life than Jake McPherson. She’d survive this encounter. One way or another, she’d speak her piece before she left this house. Some way, she vowed silently, she’d make him smile before she was done.
He trembled with anger, his hands gripping the tires of his chair. Unless she was mistaken, his first inclination was to run her over where she stood. Perhaps he was having second thoughts, she decided. Having gotten a good look at her, he might have recognized that she was not a woman to be trifled with.
Taller than most women, she stood eight inches over five feet. Blessed by her family background with an ample backside and a bosom to equal it, she was a match for any average man. Any average man, she thought, beginning to rue her actions. She blushed anew as she recognized her brazen behavior, aware that she had crossed the boundary lines of good conduct.
“I apologize, Mr. McPherson,” she said quietly. “I’ve been rude. If this matter weren’t so important, I wouldn’t have come calling without first requesting an appointment.”
“Rude doesn’t begin to describe you, ma’am,” he told her. “You’ve forced your way into my house, attacked my person and now you refuse to leave.”
From the rear of the house, a door slammed and Jake’s head turned in that direction. “You’ll have to excuse me. My son has come in, and he’ll need help with fixing supper.”
“Jason fixes the meals?” she asked. The boy was only nine years old. Certainly old enough for chores, but far too young to be entrusted with cooking on a stove he could barely reach with safety.
“As well as you’d expect,” Jake answered, “our housekeeper quit.”
Alicia tried in vain to hide her smile. “I heard from one of the ladies in the general store that you have a difficult time keeping any hired help.”
“That’s none of your damn business,” he told her. “Now, just leave, if you please. That’s about as polite as I’m going to be today. You’d better open that door and walk across that threshold right now, or I’ll send Jason after the sheriff.”
“Oh, I think perhaps the sheriff would be eager to see your son, Mr. McPherson,” she said quietly. “However, I doubt that Jason is interested in showing his face anywhere near a lawman right now.”
Jake’s hands moved up to grip the armrests and then, as if he sought a distraction, he smoothed the lap robe that concealed his lower limbs. What there was left of them. One was longer than the other, Alicia noticed, for the small quilt outlined Jake’s right knee and draped from it. The other leg was even more damaged, it seemed, missing above the knee.
She felt a surge of pity for the man who displayed such bravado, and yet recognized that he would not appreciate her softening toward him. “I really need to talk to you,” she said after a long moment.
“Jason!” It was a bellow that would have done credit to a bull, she thought, as his voice reverberated from the bare walls and floors of the hallway. “Come here,” Jake called, no trace of patience marring his sharp tones.
“I’m fixin’ supper, Pa.” Thin and reedy, the boy’s voice held apprehension in its depths, and Alicia knew, without a doubt, that he was aware of her presence.
“Shall I come get you?” Jake asked, his voice a harsh whisper now, a sound that was more awe-inspiring than the bellow had been. It had the desired effect, for the narrow-shouldered lad who pushed open the kitchen door and stepped into the hallway did so with haste.
“Are you in trouble?” Jake asked, leaning forward in his chair as he turned it to face his son, using swift movements of both hands.
“I dunno,” Jason said, his jaw set, his dark eyes flashing defiance.
“Do you know this lady?” Jake asked.
The boy nodded, tossing a look of appraisal at Alicia before he studied the floor at his feet. “She’s my teacher,” he said sullenly.
“Why is she here?”
Jason’s head came up abruptly and his eyes widened in surprise. “Ain’t she told you already?”
Jake shook his head. “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”
“Let her do the talkin’,” the boy said, and Alicia thought that, for one so young, he wore an immense chip on his shoulder. He spoke almost as an adult, uttering more words in these few moments than he’d delivered in her classroom all week. The boy was bright, there was no doubt about that, for when he deigned to turn in an assignment, it was far superior to the other two boys of his age. Not only was he bright, she thought grimly, he also was in trouble—of that she was dead certain.
Jake looked at Alicia again. “You’ve got one minute to talk,” he said gruffly. “If the boy’s done some mischief, you’ll have to take care of it. That’s your job, lady. You have him seven hours a day. If you can’t control him, it’s not my fault.”
“But his behavior is your problem, Mr. McPherson,” she returned bluntly. “And he is definitely a behavior problem.”
Jake cast Jason a long look. “Back in the kitchen with you,” he told him. “And close the door.”
Without an argument, Jason did as he was told, but his parting glance in Alicia’s direction was filled with defiance and, she thought, a touch of fear. She’d never attempted to instill fright in a child, and she didn’t plan on starting with this one, but he must learn respect.
“He needs some sort of guidance,” she began, unable to speak the words that would condemn the child, that would make his life any more difficult than it already was. Having Jake McPherson as a father was problem enough. Motherless, and part of an unstable household, the boy didn’t stand a chance of making anything of himself. Unless Jake took hold and changed his style of fathering.
“He gets guidance.” Jake looked at her from dark, angry eyes. “He doesn’t need any Goody Two-shoes coming around trying to reform him. He’s a boy, and boys get in trouble once in a while.” He settled back in his chair and his chin jutted forward. “What’s he done?”
Alicia felt like crying. For no earthly reason whatever, she felt tears burn against her eyelids and she turned aside, lest they be visible to the man before her. Not that he’d be able to make them out in the dim hallway, where tall, narrow panes of fly-specked glass on either side of the front door provided the barest minimum of light.
Beyond the wide parlor doors only gloom existed, apparently, for the curtains appeared to be closed tightly. At any rate, the man would have to peer intently at her to notice whether or not her eyes were shiny with tears.
This house…this man…the boy in the kitchen—all merited her concern, and that rush of emotion that threatened to melt her reserve held her stock-still where she stood.
HE WAS A MAN ISOLATED by his own choice. He admitted it freely to himself, and knew that the people who lived in Green Rapids were fully aware of his desire for solitude. Seldom in the past had anyone crossed his threshold, only the train of servants he’d hired intermittently, and then watched depart.
Housekeepers were hard to come by, a fact Jake was only too aware of. A decent cook would come in handy. As it was, his only household help was a widow lady who picked up their laundry once a week, then delivered it back to them a day or so later.
Beyond that, he and Jason were on their own, except for the occasional visit from his brother’s family. That the boy needed a woman’s touch was true. That he was likely to be the beneficiary of such a luxury was out of the question, unless some miraculous creature turned up on their doorstep and waved a magic wand over the household.
The woman who stood before him did not fit that description. Yet, she held his interest, as had