"What?"
"She ain’t in her room, Pa. I knocked on the door ‘cause I couldn’t reach the peppermint, and she didn’t answer."
Lacy let out a sob and clutched her belly. "I want Annie Josie!"
Cord tucked the blanket around her and stood. "Daddy’ll get your peppermint, Sweetpea. I’ll be right back." He steered Matt toward his room. "Thanks for the help, son. You get back in bed now."
Matt hesitated at his door. "Where do you think she went, Pa?"
Cord unclenched his jaw with effort. "I don’t know, son." He couldn’t shake an image that rose in his mind, of Josie behind the Blue Rose, bared in the moonlight for another man.
He turned and started down the stairs. Maybe Matt had been wrong. Maybe Josie just hadn’t heard the boy knock. She wouldn’t leave, not without saying goodbye to the children, not when she knew how important the party was to Lacy. She wouldn’t leave now, not yet.
He stopped at the door to her room, anger erupting inside of him. Dammit, if she was gone...
Cord jammed his hand through his hair. If she was gone, he was going to have one sad little girl on his hands. That thought made the anger burn brighter. How could Josie just leave?
Cord shook his head. He was getting himself all worked up and Matt was probably wrong. Josie was just asleep in her bed. With a deep breath, he knocked on the door. He thought he might have heard a sound from inside, but couldn’t be sure. He knocked again, but got no answer. Slowly, he turned the knob.
"Josie?" he called softly into the darkness. He heard nothing. Anxiety grew within him. Why the hell didn’t she answer? Cord swung the door open and thrust the lamp into the room. The flickering light bounced off the walls and ceiling, off the empty bed, and the empty spot where her bag had sat.
Josie was gone.
Cord closed his eyes briefly and let out the breath he’d been holding. She’d left. Without even telling him. He held the lamp out and searched the corners of the room, but her few things were gone.
"Dammit," he muttered. Cord stood in the middle of the room where he had made love to Josie, where he had joined her to him, body and soul. And he couldn’t decide what made him madder, that she had gone without saying goodbye, at least to the children, or that she had gone after she’d promised to stay for the party. Or that she had done what he’d told her and left their lives forever.
Josie opened her eyes to lamplight and a heavy shaking. Grace stood over her, holding the lamp.
"Come on, now. I’ve got cinnamon rolls to get started. Get up, girl, or you’ll make me late."
"Make you late?" Josie said through a wide yawn.
"I won’t have you moping around here all day while I’m slaving away at the restaurant. I’m putting you to work. Now get out of that bed."
With bleary eyes, Josie sat up. Shortly, she found herself trudging past the school for the second time that night, this time on her way to Grace’s kitchen at the hotel.
She was wrapped in a clean apron and placed in front of a basin of potatoes, where she spent the wee hours peeling them, one after another. By six o’clock, a permanent kink had wedged in her back, and her thumb was raw from the edge of the knife.
"Grace, I thought you said we’d be making cinnamon rolls," Josie said, rubbing the heel of her hand along her lower spine.
"I never said we would be doing them," Grace told her, breaking yet another egg into a huge bowl.
"If I close my eyes, all I can see are potatoes," Josie said, wiping her forehead with her arm.
Grace smiled and handed a bowl to one of the kitchen girls. "Good. Now you can slice them. I need a mess of them for frying as soon as possible. The rest can be cut into chunks for lunch and dinner."
Josie sighed. Well, at least Grace didn’t want her to make biscuits.
With the arrival of breakfast patrons, activity in the kitchen grew to a frenzy. Josie stayed out of everyone’s way and sliced her potatoes while Grace managed to supervise every stir of every pot, and every flip of every pancake. Grace even seemed to know when patrons needed more coffee or seconds.
Josie sliced potatoes as fast as she could, hoping she could keep up with demand. She stopped a moment to stretch the kink in her back. Grace tapped her on the shoulder and motioned her to the back door.
"Here, I need you to deliver this." She thrust a towel-covered platter into Josie’s hands and turned. "Better hurry before it gets cold."
"But where does it go?"
"Over to Cordell and the kids," Grace shouted over her shoulder as she stirred more batter.
Josie nearly dropped the platter. "Grace..."
"Well, go on then," Grace waved her away. "They’re waitin’ for their breakfast."
Josie walked over to Grace and set the platter down. "I can’t go back there."
"Honey, it’s just a plate of food," she said, putting another pot of coffee on the stove. "Won’t take you but a minute."
Josie shook her head, trying to find the words to make Grace understand. She couldn’t just show up on Cord’s back doorstep with a plate of food as if nothing had happened between them. Not after she’d left, after all that had happened.
"Grace, I don’t want to go back. I can’t," Josie whispered. "He doesn’t want me there."
"I’ll bet he wants his breakfast, though. I’ve seen what Cordell has tried to cook, and it’s worse than your biscuits."
Josie grabbed the edge of the table for strength. "Grace, Please. I can’t face him."
Grace stopped pouring pancakes long enough to pin her with a stern look. "I can’t spare anyone else, Josie. You have to take that food over. I can’t go myself, it’s the breakfast hour and I’ve got to cook. You need a break anyway, and the sunshine will do you some good. Now get goin’ before that platter goes cold." She turned back to her pancakes.
Josie sighed heavily and grabbed the platter. Grace just wasn’t going to budge on this one. She walked out the door and into the alley on wooden legs. The sun cut through the cool morning chill and tried to warm her, but all she could feel was sinking dread. She hoped to God Cord wasn’t up, then she could just put the food on the porch and leave before he saw her.
Between buildings, the white tops of sails poked up above the buildings across the street, announcing the arrival of yet another ship. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe she should get on a ship and go to wherever it took her, to someplace where no one would ever find out about her past. But even as she considered it, Josie dismissed the idea. She’d seen a couple of the sailors who lived on those ships around town. The idea of being a woman on a ship full of them held little appeal.
Her steps slowed as she neared the familiar back gate. The tall tops of her corn stood sentinel over her garden. A few tomatoes looked close to ripening. The beans needed picking again.
Josie stopped at the gate and closed her eyes. This was no longer her garden. No longer her home. No longer her family. She wasn’t wanted here. Josie took a deep breath and let it out in a rush, praying Cord wouldn’t see her. She couldn’t bear to see the way he looked at her again.
Balancing the platter on one hand, Josie lifted the wire that served as a latch and opened the gate carefully, hoping its usual squeak would remain silent. She could have hoped to turn into a virgin for all the good it did her. The gate squealed loudly, as always. She groaned inwardly. The back door swung open just as she stepped into the yard.
"Annie Josie!" Lacy came running out the door and locked her little arms around Josie’s legs. "I had a tummy ache last night, an’ you weren’t here to hold me."
All the air rushed out of her lungs. Lacy had needed her, and she’d abandoned the child. A wave of guilt flooded her. She reached down and stroked Lacy’s soft hair. "I’m sorry, sweetheart," she whispered.
Josie felt eyes on her and looked up. Cord stood in the doorway, rumpled and worn-looking, dark circles under his eyes. But anger still heated his gaze, searing her to the bone. She could see plainly that he was furious she’d come back.
"Lacy, come back in the house." His voice was low, full of tension and anger. He watched Lacy skip back into the house and then turned the full force of his scorching glare on her.
"You might have told me you were leaving," he said, crossing his arms, "and at least said goodbye to the kids."
It took all her strength to step toward him. She held out the platter of food. "I--I brought your breakfast. Grace thought you might need something."
"So that’s where you went?"
"For now. Just until the party." She turned away, unable to bear his heated stare. "Then I’ll leave Houlton, just like you want, and you’ll never have to look at me again."
He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, only stared at her with those golden eyes that used to make her melt. Now they burned into her soul.
"Take it," she said, thrusting the platter toward him. "I didn’t cook any of it, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s Grace’s cooking, all of it. Take it!" She shoved the platter into his hands and turned. She made it to the gate before the tears started falling again. So damn many tears. Why did she have to feel so much? Why did she have to love a man who hated her?
Cord’s chest constricted as he watched Josie run past the fence and down the alley. Dammit, he didn’t mean to make her cry again. He was just still so damn mad about finding her gone. The last thing he needed in the middle of the night was to find the one person his crying daughter wants has up and left. Lacy had been devastated.
So had he.
And that made him even madder. He didn’t want to be upset that Josie had left. He didn’t want to care that she’d never said goodbye, that she’d been alone in the night, with no place to go. Or worse, that she might have taken up in a saloon. At least she was with Grace. She had a place to stay, wasn’t out on the street. God knows what could happen to her, with all the ships that docked here. A woman like her shouldn’t be on her own.
Cord scowled. A woman like her. He didn’t want to think about the kind of woman she was anymore. His head ached with the thoughts and images that rioted in his mind.
He looked down at the platter in his hands. I didn’t cook any of it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Her words echoed in his head. It was just as well. He’d almost gotten used to her burned biscuits
"There you are. I was beginning to think you’d run out on me." Grace wiped her hands on her apron and took Josie’s arm, pulling her to the side of the kitchen. She grabbed an apron from one of the pegs on the wall and handed it to Josie. "Put this on, and wipe your face, honey. You all right?"
Josie took a deep breath and forced back the tears that hovered at the corners of her eyes. "I’m fine, Grace."
"Did you see Cordell?"
Josie blinked hard and looked away. "I saw him."
Grace nodded her head. "Well, then. Back to work. How are you on making potato salad?"
An emotional bubble of laughter let loose from Josie’s throat, closely followed by the sting of grief. "More potatoes. Yes, give me anything to do, even potatoes."
Maybe staring at a bowl of potatoes would erase the memory of the hatred she’d seen in Cord’s eyes.
Somehow she doubted it would.
Cord wandered about the store, unable to keep his mind on anything. Anything except Josie.
He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to think about it, but he missed her. He wandered over to the opposite counter, and his gaze rested on the empty stool that sat behind it. This time of day, Josie would be in that stool, stooped over the account book with a pencil in her hand that Cord knew was yet unfamiliar. He flipped open the book and ran his fingers down the neat columns of letters and figures Josie had made. His book had never been so damn legible. She’d only just learned to make her letters, and she already wrote better than him.
She sat here each day, helping him even when he no longer needed it, now that his arm had healed. And she didn’t complain, never looked unhappy. In fact, she always had a smile for him. He could glance at her at any time and she’d look up with those sea-blue eyes of hers and smile.
Cord shut the book with a snap. Now all he saw in her eyes was pain. Pain that he caused because he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Because every time he looked at her, he couldn’t erase the ache in his chest that made him wish he could track down every one of the men who’d touched her and relish the sound of their bones crunching beneath his fists.
Cord scowled at himself. He’d killed a man with his fists once, in another lifetime. He’d paid his debt and changed, become another man, a better man. And now, he was back to what he’d been before, wanting revenge, wanting to strike out and injure. All because of a woman who sold her body. A woman who’d turned his life around again, and then ripped his heart out.
Lacy’s voice floated in through the open back door. Cord bolted the front door and turned the sign around for lunch. He scratched his unshaven chin. What could he scrape together for lunch? He didn’t even know if they had any bread left. He’d have to get Grace to start making it for them again.
Cord walked into the kitchen. Lacy and Matt sat at the table, eating what looked and smelled like chicken pie.
"Where did you get that?"
Lacy swallowed a huge mouthful. "Annie Josie brought it, Daddy."
"She was just here," Matt said, using his fork like a shovel.
Cord found himself searching out the window for Josie’s dark hair. He scowled and pumped water into the basin to wash up.
"Annie Gracie needs Josie to help for a coupla days, Daddy. That’s why she’s not home," Lacy said, stuffing a forkful of chicken in her mouth. "Daddy, can I go help Annie Gracie, too?"
"We’ll see, Sweetpea," Cord said, sitting down. His place was already set. He picked up his fork, knowing Josie had touched it. Lacy never had the fork on the correct side and Matt wouldn’t ever set a table to save his life. Cord scooped a helping of chicken pie and tucked into it, trying to forget that Josie had been there once again. Would she bring all their meals then? Would he have to see that haunted look in her eyes before each meal? How the hell was he supposed to digest his food after that?
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Sweetpea?" he said around a mouthful of hot pie.
"Daddy, don’ talk with your mouth full."
"Sorry, honey."
"Can I go help Annie Grace too?"
"I don’t think it’s a good idea, Sweetpea." He couldn’t let Lacy get any more attached to Josie than she was already.
Matt slurped his water. "C’mon, Pa, let her go. I’m sick of her hangin’ around me all day."
"I’m sorry, Matt. I know things are hard right now."
"Daddy, I miss Annie Josie."
"I kinda miss her too, I guess," said Matt, toying with the food on his plate.
A claw of sadness tightened in Cord’s gut. "I know, guys. I know you miss her," he said, ignoring the burning pain clutching his insides. "I wish I could change things."
Christ, how he wished he could change things, forget what Josie was, forget the images his mind conjured of her with other men. She was his, Josie was his. For a few brief moments, she had been only his, body and soul. But now, his mind couldn’t wrap around that idea. Not now, when he knew what she was, what she’d done. If only he could forget all of that, and bring Josie home, where she belonged.
But he couldn’t forget. And forgiving was out of the question.
He nodded to Lacy’s plate. "Eat your lunch, Sweetpea. You too, Matt. I need your help in the store this afternoon. You can stack some tins for me."
"But Daddy, I wanna see Annie Josie--" Lacy whined.
"Not today. I’m sorry Lacy." Cord’s chair scraped harshly across the floor. Christ, he knew this would be hard, but had hoped it wouldn’t start the moment she’d gone. Maybe the sharp ache in his chest would dull eventually, but the memory of his children’s anguished faces would haunt him.
Dammit, he wished he could change things.
Cord gripped the newel post as he paused by the stairs yet one more time, stopping his aimless wandering through the downstairs. Too early to put himself to bed. He wouldn’t sleep anyway.
He’d missed her again when she’d brought their supper over. For some reason, it bothered him that he hadn’t seen her, and the fact that it did bothered him worse.
The house was empty without her. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d gotten used to having a woman around again, how much he’d gotten used to Josie. The still air in the house cried out for her soft, sweet humming, for the musical sound of her laughter. Gone was the delicate vanilla soap scent that every now and then Cord had caught a whiff of. Gone was the soft swish of her skirt as she moved about. Gone was the shy curl of her lips as she caught him looking at her. Cord leaned against the stair railing and drew in a shaky breath. Sweet Christ, he missed everything about her.
But most of all, he missed not knowing anything of her past.
Cord found himself in the kitchen, staring at the closed door to Josie’s room. The room where he’d made love to her, where she had clung to him in the grip of passion. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe.
He stalked to the sideboard and pulled the door open. His hand wrapped around the familiar bottle. He stared at it in his hands, at the amber liquid inside that would dull the searing ache in his chest, make him forget for just a little while.
Cord closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. He placed the bottle back on the shelf and closed the cupboard. He would do it without her. He could be strong. He wouldn’t let himself crawl into the bottle again, like he’d done so many times. He wouldn’t let Josie’s memory do that to him.
He didn’t want to forget. He wanted to remember just how much Josie made him want to be a better man, a stronger man than he was.