Outlaw Hunter. Carol Arens

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СКАЧАТЬ memory become a pain so sharp that it dried up her well of tears? If only she could let them out, the cramp in her chest might ease. Maybe living with the Traverses had so dulled her emotions that she no longer reacted to them.

      She entered the house around the back, through the mudroom then into the kitchen. Setting the lantern on the table with a quiet click, she glanced about a room that Mama might have stepped out of only yesterday.

      Lit softly by the lantern’s glow, her apron hung on its peg. Mama ought to be here, wearing it, taking something out of the oven or sweeping the floor. Melody ought to be hearing her mother’s voice, singing while she went about her chores.

      With memories crowding in on her from every which way, she picked up the lantern and hurried out of the kitchen, into the parlor.

      Mama sat in the rocking chair beside the fire. Melody saw the picture in her mind as clearly as if it were real. She looked away but there was her mother again, standing beside the window, holding her baby girl in her arms and pointing at the snow falling in the yard.

      Melody closed her eyes, trying to ground herself in the here and now. She couldn’t let grief overcome her. Her babies depended upon her, the other children, too.

      She couldn’t fall apart. Remaining strong was the only thing that would insure a stable future.

      With a steadying breath, she opened her eyes and looked about the parlor in which she had spent so many happy hours. Someone had been keeping the place up. Probably her father. It smelled fresh, not like someplace forgotten and left to gather dust.

      She lifted the lantern high. Once again, it seemed that Mama had only stepped out for a moment. Even her knitting lay in the yellow basket beside the chair, waiting for her return.

      “Melody...baby?”

      The sound of her mother’s voice made her spin toward the door. In that instant, she realized that her father had been confused. Mama was alive after all.

      “Mama!” she cried and ran several steps toward the empty doorway.

      Of course, Mama was dead. The voice had been in her mind, a memory so vivid that she heard it.

      Once again, pain cut her heart, as though Papa had just now delivered the news. She bent in half, her knees giving out where she stood. The sob that had been clogging her heart for hours broke free.

      She needed something to hold on to, something that was Mama’s. She crawled to the knitting basket and plucked out the half-finished project with the needles still crossed midstitch.

      Kneeling, she clutched it to her heart, and rocked to and fro.

      “Mama,” she sobbed, holding back none of the grief now. “What happened to you?”

      Her mother was dead and she didn’t even know why...or how. Had she been ill? Had there been an accident?

      Lifting the yarn to her face, she let her tears flow into it. The unfinished garment smelled like Mama. She breathed deep and wept, feeling that if she opened her eyes, her mother would be there.

      She pulled the wool away from her face to look at it. What project had Mama been pouring her heart into at the last?

      Her fingers shook as she rolled open a scarf. A name had been embroidered on the bottom edge. M...E...L...O...D... The Y had been started but not completed.

      She bent her body over the scarf, bowing her head so low that it touched the floor. She began to shake and sob.

      Heartache so intense that she thought she would never recover from it crippled her. If she were given a choice of staying here and living with this loneliness or going to live with Mama, she would choose...

      “Mama...” Her voice cracked. “Mama.”

      “Melody.” A hand touched her shoulder, and then stroked her hair. “I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

      She felt strong, warm arms reach beneath her, then lift her from the cold floor. A part of her wanted to resist his touch, but another part wanted to hide in his embrace.

      “I want my mama, Reeve.” She buried her face into his neck and felt his collar become damp with her tears. “I need to tell her how much I miss her...how sorry I am.”

      “I know you do.” Reeve’s breath grazed her hair. “Tell her now.”

      For all the good that would do. “She can’t hear me now. I committed a horrible sin running away with Ram. All the sorry in the world won’t make up for that.”

      “I’ve been where you are... You aren’t alone... I’m here.”

      And all of a sudden something shifted inside her. She couldn’t even say what it was. Pain still sliced her heart, but with Reeve here, so strong and dependable, life didn’t seem so hopeless.

      As he carried her out of the house and through the snowy night, she let her tears fall.

      * * *

      Reality was no longer tangible. Nothing was as it should be. Vivid memories of Mama collided with the harsh realization of her passing. How could her mother be gone from the earth and yet so present in her heart?

      Melody’s eyes ached. Her chest felt heavy with misery and disbelief.

      A white fog clouded her mind. Fight as she might against the debilitating vapor, nothing seemed secure any longer.

      Nothing except Reeve. Reeve was secure. His voice whispering comfort in her ear as he carried her back to the hotel was the slim thread grounding her to the here and now. Just when she thought she might be overwhelmed, his voice whispering across her cheek reminded her that life would go on. It had to.

      He carried her through the dark hotel lobby and up the stairs. She thought he would set her down outside the door to her room but he walked past it.

      His footsteps padded down the hall with the muffled shuffle of leather on wood. Opening the door to his room, he carried her inside then closed it quietly behind him.

      He set her upon the mattress. Propriety, and past experience with a man, demanded that she protest, screech and run back to her own room. Instead, she clung to his neck, holding on to him a moment longer than she ought to.

      Gently, he removed her shoes. She sighed and closed her eyes.

      What was wrong with her? With Ram, she’d always slept with one eye open, always on guard.

      “Rest now, darlin’. I’ll keep watch on the children... You get some sleep.”

      Sleep...she couldn’t...wasn’t certain she ever would again, but at some point she must have. Her eyes opened slowly, feeling gritty. Her head ached, but she was no longer weeping.

      A fire, banked low, glowed in the hearth. Reeve sat in a chair beside it with his arms propped across his chest, his legs stretched out with his boots crossed at the ankle. His chin dipped toward his chest in sleep.

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