Chapter Nine

 

“Well, I couldn’t find The Moonstone. Or the chamber pot. Or my lunch.”

Elijah sounded very crabby. Joy knew she should stop laughing, but she couldn’t. It was as if all the laughter she’d kept bottled up for twenty-five years had popped its cork and was now rioting out of control. Tears ran down her cheeks. She managed to set the tray on a bureau before her knees gave out, and she collapsed into the chair beside Elijah’s bed. Her whoops sounded improper and they embarrassed her, but she couldn’t contain them.

He scowled at her. “What’s so damned funny about me reading the Bible?”

“N-nothing. Nothing at all.” She doubled over, helpless to withstand the power of her mirth.

“Is that food I smell there?” Elijah asked with some asperity. “Do you plan to feed it to me or torture me by making me smell it? I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, you know.”

She nodded, and couldn’t get any words formed. She needed to apologize for not feeding him sooner. She would apologize. As soon as she regained mastery over her giggles.

The only sounds in the room for several moments were Joy’s unladylike snorts as she tried and failed to stop laughing, and the purr of the marmalade kitten snoozing on Elijah’s blanketed legs. After several moments of this, Elijah said, “What do you think, Killer? Should I throw something at her? You suppose that’d make her shut up?”

Joy looked up, wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron, and gulped several times. After a moment, she managed to choke out, “You’re—you’re not going to call that poor sweet kitten Killer!”

“Oh, yeah? Says who?”

Oh, dear. He looked really quite exasperated with her. She could hardly blame him. She gasped twice, swallowed another laugh with a good deal of difficulty, snorted three times, and blurted out, “I say so!”

“You weren’t here,” Elijah reminded her coldly. “And I’ve already taught him his name, so there.”

Joy sat up and gathered the shattered ribbons of her dignity around her. “Nonsense! I wasn’t gone long enough for you to teach anything to anything.” She frowned. “Or something like that.”

“That’s what you think. You were gone all day long, and he already knows his name is Killer.”

“Fiddlesticks.” Joy struggled out of the chair. She had a stitch in her side from laughing so hard. She couldn’t remember such a thing ever happening to her before. Laughter had been frowned upon in her family, at least by her mother, whose will was so strong it had eventually choked the levity out of her father. Such a thing seemed a shame to her now, in light of the fact that her insides felt much less knotted up after her bout of glee than they had earlier in the day. Why, she could hardly feel the painful weight she always carried around in her chest.

Perhaps there was something healthful to this funning nonsense. Since she was pretty sure Elijah would make a big deal out of it if she mentioned her suspicion, she didn’t. Instead, she folded her hands primly in front of her and lifted her chin. She forced herself not to give in to the bubble in her chest making her want to laugh some more. She cleared her throat, and stared at the wall behind Elijah’s left shoulder. She didn’t dare look him in the eyes for fear she’d burst out laughing.

“I owe you an apology, Mr. Perry. I should not have left you alone today, and I am sorry for my rash action. I was wrong to have lost my temper, and even more wrong to have left you helpless in your bed. I know my absence might have put you in peril, and I apologize. Although,” she couldn’t resist adding, “I see you ultimately found something useful to do with your time.”

She lowered her gaze and stared pointedly at the Bible resting on his stomach. The incongruity of Elijah Perry, of all people, reading the Bible, struck her once more, and she snorted again. Her behavior embarrassed her, and she felt herself get warm.

Elijah stared at her. Joy, glancing at him briefly before resuming her inspection of the wall behind him, couldn’t tell by his expression if he was annoyed or not. His continued perusal made her edgy, though, and she decided she didn’t have to stand still for it. Ergo, she made a quick lunge for the bed and grabbed the kitten from his lap.

“Hey!” Elijah shouted.

“Killer, my foot. This adorable little thing’s name is Apricot, and that’s all there is to it.” She stroked the kitten under the chin, and it purred louder. “Isn’t that so, my precious Apricot kitty?”

“Dad blast it, you stole my cat!”

Joy smirked at him. “I did no such thing. I removed the kitten from your lap so that I may place your supper tray there.”

“Oh. So you finally decided to feed me, did you?”

Elijah grinned, and Joy’s heart executed a sudden flippity-flop. Good heavens. He was a sinfully attractive man. Which, all things considered, made sense. Everything else about him was sinful, after all.

However, she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by such nonsensical attributes as human comeliness, which, her mother had always told her, only led the unwary to carnal urges and eternal damnation.

Jerusalem! All inclination to laugh vanished in a flash, and Joy wished she hadn’t thought about her mother.

Well, no matter. She determined to thrust all memories of her mother out of her mind this evening whenever they appeared. She might invite them back in later, if she discovered her mother had been right about everything. At the moment, Joy could only be glad her mother wasn’t in Rio Hondo, or Joy would never live this day down.

“Yes, indeed. I am going to— Blast!” She dropped the kitten, who scrambled back onto the bed. “Come here, Apricot.”

Elijah snagged the kitten and tucked it under his arm. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Killer. You can help me eat my supper.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Perry. Give me that kitten. It’s unsanitary to eat with an animal on your bed.”

“There are some people, Miss Hardesty, who believe it’s unwise—even sinful—to take meals in bed anyway. What difference does Killer make?”

Joy planted her fists on her hips and squinted down at him. “I’ll tell you what difference Apricot makes, Mr. Perry. He makes the difference between your taking supper now, and your not taking it at all, because I will not serve you as long as Apricot remains on your bed.”

Elijah frowned at her, then looked at the cat. “Dammit, Killer, I’m afraid she’s got me there. I’m starving, thanks to her.” He heaved a huge sigh that ended in a grunt.

Joy’s humor returned with a thump, and she had to fight her smile. He’d evidently forgotten how tender his chest wound remained and had breathed too deeply. She held out her arms. “Please allow me to remove Apricot from your care, Mr. Perry.”

He slanted a glance up at her. Joy’s breath caught in her chest. He had the most beautiful eyes! She’d never paid any attention before, but his lashes were as dark and luxurious as anything Joy’d ever seen. He had fine eyes, Elijah Perry did. Fine, fine eyes. Even if he did need spectacles to read with. Recollecting this evidence of human frailty on her patient’s part made Joy feel less breathless. She didn’t lower her arms. “Give over, Mr. Perry. I demand you give me that cat. Apricot.”

Elijah heaved another, softer, sigh. “Oh, all right. I’m sorry, Killer.”

He handed Joy the kitten. She deliberately paid attention to the cat instead of the man when she took it out of his hands. She didn’t quite dare look at Elijah until she’d gathered her wits back together. Strange, fluttering sensations had started dancing in her innards, and she had an unhappy suspicion they were caused by the sudden, electric, and wholly unwelcome attraction she felt for Mr. Perry.

This would never do. She told herself so at least fifteen times in the few seconds it took her to shoo the kitten out of Elijah’s room and shut the door so he couldn’t run back in again. She didn’t trust little marmalade kittens in rooms full of freshly caught, freshly cooked fish.

Dusting her hands together, she steeled herself to withstand her uncooperative emotions and walked back to the bed. “There. I’ve put Apricot out of the room for the time being. I’ll let him in again after you’ve eaten.”

“Poor old Killer,” grumbled Elijah. “I’m sure he could use some chow, too.”

“Oh, I fed the cat.” Joy shot Elijah a smug grin as she lifted his tray from the bureau. “It’s only you I neglected.”

Elijah gave her a good hot scowl. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“I have no idea, for I am a wonderfully capable nurse, you know. I had the best training in the world. Today’s lapse was most unlike me.” She expected one of her mother’s rejoinders to kick her in the conscience after her uncharacteristic boast. It didn’t, and she felt pretty cheerful about it.

With great care, she set the tray across Elijah’s legs. She flapped open a napkin and tucked it under his chin. Touching his flesh made the flutters in her middle speed up and whirl like dervishes, but she refused to acknowledge them. Then she stood back and beamed at him. “There! I caught that fish today, Mr. Perry, after I deserted you. And I picked the asparagus, too. Mr. McMurdo already had the potatoes. And I found the pickled onions in his pantry.”

Elijah scanned his tray with an appreciative eye. “Looks good.” He glanced up at Joy and winked. “And so do you, Miss Hardesty.”

Joy gasped, astonished, and almost fell over backwards.

# # #

“This is the best chow I’ve had in years, Miss Hardesty. Of course, my opinion might be colored by the fact that you almost starved me to death today.”

Elijah peered at Joy out of the corner of his eye, and was pleased to see that her cheeks remained pink. He squinted harder, and realized her high color was not due entirely to the blush she’d blushed when he’d said she looked good. By damn, she’d actually got some sun today after she deserted him. She looked much healthier for it too. Not so washed out and sickly. Good for her—even if her outdoor activities had left him perishingly hungry.

Actually, he realized—not for the first time—that she could be very attractive without half trying if she wanted to be. It was her pinched-up, withered, sourpuss expression that had originally put him off. If she continued to loosen up, she might turn out to be a genuinely pretty woman one of these days.

“I’ve already apologized to you, Mr. Perry, and I don’t plan to do it again.” She squinted at him. Elijah wasn’t sure, but he thought there was still some humor lurking in her expression. “You can’t milk an apology forever, you know, or the apologizer begins to feel put upon. Now that I’ve run away once and know I can get away with it, you’d best not tempt me to do it again until you’re feeling stronger, don’t you think?”

By God, it was humor! Elijah lifted his head and stared at her, a forkful of fish halfway to his mouth. “Are you teasing me, Miss Joy Hardesty? You?”

Her cheeks got pinker. Elijah was delighted. “You were! Well, by damn, I didn’t think you had a tease in you, but you’ve proved me wrong. This is a red-letter day.” He stuffed the fish in his mouth, pleased as punch. Maybe she wasn’t such a starched-up old spinster, after all. There might be hope that she’d turn into a real human being yet.

“Don’t take it too much to heart, Mr. Perry,” Joy advised dryly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m sure it’s a temporary aberration.”

She gave him a glare that tickled his funny bone. “But, really, this is mighty tasty, Miss Hardesty. I didn’t know you could find asparagus out here in this crazy place.”

“It grows wild in the marshes by the Spring River. There are even some willow and cottonwood trees up there.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Undoubtedly, that’s because you never get out of smoke-filled saloons, Mr. Perry.” She gave him a superior smile and popped a bite of potato into her mouth.

He grinned at her. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Miss Hardesty, or I might have to take you down a peg or two.”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try, laid up as you are.”

“I’m not as helpless as you think, Miss Priss. Just watch out, is all I have to say.”

“Hmmm.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Elijah kept sneaking glances at Joy, his amazement at the transformation in her boundless. He hoped she’d remain transformed. Why, she looked almost soft this evening, in the fading afternoon light leaking in through the window. Not at all the prickly, standoffish young woman he’d first seen sweeping off Mac’s front porch.

Elijah’s heart gave a sudden spasm. Good God, was he beginning to like her? He stabbed another piece of fish and poked it into his mouth. Damn, it tasted good. As he chewed, he studied Joy’s face some more.

Yes. By God, he did like her. In fact, even worse, he felt almost akin to her. Blast. How had that happened? He was supposed to be a cold-hearted son of a bitch. He couldn’t go around empathizing with troubled people—especially troubled, starched-up spinster ladies—or his reputation would be ruined.

He investigated her and her personality some more as he took a bite of asparagus, and understood something else—and hated it. Elijah shook his head and grimaced. Good God, he was like Joy Hardesty’s damned mother.

Thunderation, it made him sick to admit it. But the conclusion he reached resonated, unfortunately, like the truth in his consciousness. Although they had tackled the problem from different directions, both Joy’s awful mother and he, Elijah Perry, had come to the same conclusion about life. He stopped chewing and his eyes opened wide as he tried to wriggle out of this latest understanding. Aw, hell, it couldn’t be. Could it?

Joy looked at him inquiringly, and he recommenced chewing. Damn it all to hell and back again. He couldn’t get out of it. No matter how much he hated admitting it, his intrinsic honesty wouldn’t let him. Somehow or other, he had learned to mistrust the world every bit as much as Mrs. More-righteous-than-God-Himself Hardesty. What’s more, he suspected he feared the world every bit as much as she had. He had come to consider the world an awful place filled with awful people, and had decided eons before not to trust it or them. Just, in fact, like Mrs. Hardesty.

Well, hell. He hated knowing he and Joy’s mother had anything at all, even remotely, in common. But they did. And it wasn’t all that remote, either. “Damn,” he muttered as he stabbed a stalk of asparagus.

Joy arched an eyebrow. “Is something the matter with your supper, Mr. Perry?”

Hell, he hadn’t meant to swear out loud. He mumbled, “No, ma’am. It’s real good. Thanks.”

Joy eyed him slantwise for a moment before she slipped a bite of fish between her lips. Elijah stared at her lips and realized something else. This realization shocked him even more than his last two had.

By thunder, he wanted her. As a man wanted a woman. Good God. He looked at his plate quickly, hoping she hadn’t caught the expression of amazement he knew must be plastered all over his face.

This must be a product of his illness. There was no way in the world that he, Elijah Perry, diabolically attractive ladies’ man, could feel even a hint of desire for a stuffy, prudish, virginal preacher’s daughter; especially one who must be ten or fifteen years younger than he was. Lordy, this was terrible.

“Um, may I ask you a question, Miss Hardesty?”

She shot him a suspicious glance, and waited until she’d swallowed before answering cautiously, “What question is that, Mr. Perry?”

“How old are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Her back went straight, her chin went up, the pink in her cheeks deepened, and Elijah, for all his emotional discomfort, grinned. “I know, I know: How rude of me, huh?”

“Indeed,” she said in a frosty voice.

“I’ll bet your mama would tell you not to be vain about your age, Miss Hardesty.”

Her lips pursed for an instant. Elijah wished he hadn’t brought her abysmal mother into the conversation, especially since he now suspected he was no better than she.

“Vanity has nothing to do with it, Mr. Perry. My mother would never have been so tactless as to ask another person his or her age.”

Elijah had no reason to feel nettled by her frigid tone and starchy posture. After all, he was the one who’d mentioned Joy’s old battle axe of a mother. He frowned down at his supper again. “Yeah, right. I forgot. She was a saint.” He wondered if he’d get a stomachache from all the bile the thought of Joy’s mother was churning up in his stomach.

“Hmmm. Yes. Perhaps.”

His head snapped up. “Perhaps? You mean you’re not sure about her sanctity any longer?”

Joy laid her fork down beside her plate, set her plate on the table beside the bed, and stood up. “Are you finished, Mr. Perry? I made some apple dumplings for dessert if you’re ready for one. There’s even some cream to pour over them.”

“Coward,” he said, grinning, as he handed her his empty plate.

There went her lips again, pursing up all hard and pinchy. Elijah wished he were a well man; he’d kiss them soft again. His eyes popped open when he realized what he’d just thought. Good Lord! Was his brain going soft, or what?

“I am not a coward,” Joy said crisply. “And there is no reason for you to look so surprised that I made apple dumplings for dessert. I am a very good cook.”

Elijah swallowed hard, and could only be glad she’d so completely misunderstood his expression. “Er, yes, I know you’re a good cook, Miss Hardesty. I’d love an apple dumpling for dessert. With cream. Thank you.”

He guessed she wasn’t used to him being polite to her, because her eyes narrowed as she examined him. She looked as if she expected him to pop out of the covers and shout “Boo!” As if he could. He tried on his blandest, least offensive smile. Joy’s distrust didn’t appear to abate significantly. She did, however, nod once briefly, and turn.

Right before she got to the door, she turned around and said, “I am twenty-five years old, Mr. Perry.”

Then she twisted the handle, opened the door, and the marmalade kitten dashed into the room and made a flying leap onto Elijah’s stomach. He’d opened his mouth to speak to Joy, but the sudden pain of the kitten’s attack made him grunt instead. As he pressed a hand to his wounded ribs, he heard Joy go off into another peal of laughter right before she shut the door.

In spite of his pain, Elijah smiled. Damn, he’d never in a million years have guessed he’d actually be having fun with Miss Joy Hardesty.

# # #

Joy had pulled the bedroom curtains closed over the windows and had finished lighting the kerosene lamps when she discovered the marmalade kitten had curled up in her chair. Still feeling light-hearted—how long the condition would endure, she had no way of knowing, but she intended to savor it while it lasted—she jammed her fists on her hips and pretended to frown at it.

“Well! Turn my back for one little minute, and look what happens.” She turned her head slightly and squinted in Elijah’s direction. She didn’t quite dare look him in the eye, because she feared what she might see there. “I thought you were supposed to be taking care of Apricot, Mr. Perry.”

“I tried.”

His voice, low and teasing, made something funny happen in Joy’s chest. Jerusalem! This was perfectly shocking. At least, it should be. This evening, Joy discovered nothing shocked her very much. Merciful heavens, what did this mean? It wasn’t anything good, she was sure.

“Well!” she said again, striving to maintain her tone of mock outrage.

“Come here, Killer. Come here, boy.” Elijah kissed his lips together, as one will when calling a kitten, and Joy’s innards took to swooping and diving like sparrows who had overindulged in fermented berries. She took a deep breath, and commanded herself to cease this outrageous internal dithering.

“Shoo,” she said, and fluttered her hands at the cat. It propped one eye open and grimaced at her. She grinned in appreciation. “Apricot looks like he’s telling me to go away and leave him alone.”

“Killer’s telling you to go to hell, actually.”

She shot him a sidelong glance. “I see. And do speak cat fluently, Mr. Perry?” She might have dipped her comment in sugar before she gave it to him, it sounded so sweet.

He barked out a laugh. “The good Lord knows, I’ve known enough of ‘em in my time. Both the feline and the human variety.”

Joy sniffed, reminding herself of herself and unsettling her. She hadn’t realized how obnoxious she sounded when she sniffed like that. Nevertheless, she persisted in a teasing voice, “I’m sure that’s true.”

Elijah patted a spot on the bed at his side. “Why don’t you leave poor Killer alone and sit here by me.”

“Apricot considers such a suggestion as outrageous as I do, Mr. Perry.”

“Horse feathers. There’s nothing improper about sitting next to a wounded man, Miss Hardesty. It’s not as if I’m fit enough to do anything to you. Bore you to death, maybe, but that’s about it.”

Joy tried to keep from giggling, and couldn’t. She knew that if her mother was watching from her heavenly home, she would probably send a bolt of lightning down from the skies and fry her on the spot for what she was about to do. She did it anyway.

Heaving a sigh and muttering, “What a sane Christian woman won’t do for the sake of being kind to dumb animals,” she sat on the spot Elijah had just patted. Then, because her own behavior shocked her, she scooted to the very edge of the bed.

“Don’t fall off, Miss Hardesty,” Elijah advised acidly.

“I’ll try not to,” she responded. Her tone was quite snappy, and she was proud of it. In truth, her heart had taken to thundering like an avalanche, and she hoped to goodness Mr. Perry wouldn’t notice the heat in her cheeks. With luck, she’d been toasted enough by the warm spring sunshine this morning that her blush would pass for sunburn.

She sneaked a peek at him from out of the corner of her eye, and was relieved to see him staring up at the ceiling. Maybe her high color would fade by the time he looked at her again. She also noticed that he had his hands folded over his stomach.

At least he wouldn’t be attempting to do anything improper to her person. No man would want to. What a relief that was.

Joy knew she was sliding down the slippery slope of sin and depredation and into perdition when she realized she was lying to herself. It wasn’t a relief at all. Rather, she experienced a strong, ardent wish that she, Joy Hardesty, could inspire lust in the male breast. At any rate, she wished she could inspire lust in this male breast. Jerusalem! What kind of fallen, immoral woman that make her? She didn’t want to think about it now.

Instead she cleared her throat and said, “Would you like me to read another chapter from The Moonstone, Mr. Perry?”

He lowered his head, and Joy saw that his brows had creased into a frown, cutting two deep ruts in his forehead. His face reminded her of a weathered board. Elijah Perry evidently had lived hard in his life. Unlike Joy herself, who’d been too scared to live at all. She sighed, wishing suddenly that she’d been born into a different family; a family that had cherished laughter and openness as much as her mother had deplored them. What a wicked woman she was turning out to be. Joy tried to be appalled, and couldn’t.

“Actually, I think I’d rather just talk this evening, Miss Hardesty, if you’re game.”

At once, Joy’s heart gave a hard spasm, and all of her inhibitions and trepidations stampeded back into her head like rampaging longhorns. “Talk?” The word popped out like a bullet. “Talk about what?”

He shrugged and grimaced, then rubbed his wounded arm. “I don’t know. About anything. You know, just talk. You tell me about your life, and I’ll tell you about—” He stopped talking and grinned suddenly. “Well, I’ll think of something to tell you about, anyway.”

She squinted at him. “If I tell you about my life, you have to tell me about yours, Mr. Perry. Fair’s fair.”

He tilted his head to one side, and his grin turned devilish. “I might shock you.”

She sniffed. “I sincerely doubt it. I’m not that innocent, you know.”

“You’re not? I don’t believe it.”

“Hmph. Well, I’m not.”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about this.”

Joy, feeling nervous, let her gaze scan the room. It landed on the table beside Elijah’s bed, and fastened on the lovely old silver watch in which she’d found the lock of hair. Before she could think about what she planned to do, she leaned over and picked up the watch. “This is a beautiful old thing, Mr. Perry. Did it belong to your father by any chance?”

When she made herself glance at him, she saw his expression had softened a good deal. He looked younger and less bored with life. “No,” he said, his voice gentle. “My uncle Luke gave me that. It belonged to his father.”

“Was your uncle Luke your father’s brother, or your mother’s?”

“Neither, actually. He was just a close friend of the family’s, and I always called him Uncle Luke.” Elijah took the watch from Joy’s fingers and gazed at it lovingly. “He owned a hotel in Baltimore. I think the only times I was ever happy was when I was working in my uncle Luke’s hotel.”

“Really? What did you do there?”

He sighed deeply. “Oh, anything. Everything. Whatever he wanted me to do. I would have scrubbed the stairs with a toothbrush if he’d asked me to, but he didn’t. He was always nice to me.”

His voice had taken on a puzzled quality, as if he didn’t know why his uncle Luke had bothered to be nice to him. A scrap of sadness nestled in Joy’s heart. She looked at the strong brown fingers loosely clasping the watch, and tried to imagine the little boy Elijah Perry used to be. Her imagination, not having been given any scope to operate in her life, failed to produce an image.

Elijah sighed again. “Luke’s son and I were good friends, though.”

“Really? Were you about the same age?”

He nodded. “He was little older than I was. Luke, Junior. He married my sister Eliza, and they had the prettiest little baby girl” He shook his head, and Joy could tell he was remembering something very old and very dear to him. “Prettiest little thing, she was, all blond curls and blue eyes. Virginia, her name was. Is. Virginia Gladstone.”

Joy tried to stifle her gasp.