He stopped the buggy and took her hand. “Adeline, you don’t have to ask for anything. Just let me know whatever you want, and I’ll get it. Your wants, needs, and even whims are as important as mine. We’re equals. Understand?”
She swallowed and gave a slight jerk of her head. The breeze lifted a tendril of gold and laid it across her eyes. Ridge brushed back the strand and found the texture like fine silk. Adeline flinched, pulled her hand away, and scooted as far from him as she could get on the bench seat. They weren’t even married yet, and already he’d made a mistake. Dammit! Luke had told him to be patient, that this would take a while. She’d reacted like he was going to hit her.
For sure someone had. A muscle worked in his jaw.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying…” He picked up the reins and set the horse in motion. Best if he kept quiet, so they rode the rest of the way in silence.
Once at the two-story frame house, he set the brake and helped her down. He tried to look at the place they’d be calling home through her eyes and saw little to commend it. A ton of work still needed doing, but he was glad he’d added colorful flower boxes under the front windows. Tally Colby and some of her friends had filled the planters with pretty marigolds and daisies, and frilly curtains framed the wide windows. Ridge hadn’t liked them much, but the women said Adeline would.
As he got time and money, he’d whitewash the place and pray the wind and sand wouldn’t strip the paint off too soon. And plant some trees. They did have one—a lone elm at the right corner, outside the kitchen. A weary soldier, it leaned until its branches nearly touched the ground. Ridge felt like that tree at times, especially after a night drinking with Clay and Jack.
Adeline handed him a piece of paper. “I like it.”
“Glad to hear that. Let’s go inside.” He prayed he’d remembered to straighten things up. He’d lived here on his own for the past month and sometimes forgot that ladies liked stuff neat and tidy.
“Our nearest neighbors are Travis and Rebel Lassiter, and their three young ones. You’ll like them.” He opened the door and gave her the grand tour. She paused for a long time in the parlor, sadness darkening in her eyes. There wasn’t a mess there, so she must have been thinking about something else. She’d said almost nothing about her former life in her letters, instead talking about books she’d once read and asking questions about him and the town.
Maybe one day when she was stronger, he’d get her to talk about family. He didn’t even know if she had any. But his curiosity would have to wait. They were on her schedule. He wished she could speak. Written communication was fine if that’s all there was. But a person said so much more when actually speaking the words. Cadence, rhythm, tone all revealed the state of mind of the speaker. If being safe helped, he’d do all he could to reassure her.
Moving on, she inspected the kitchen, opening cabinets and checking on dishes and pans. Her note simply read, “Good.”
Upstairs, she ran her fingers approvingly across the quilt on the bed. The golds, browns, and greens added a bright splash of color to the bland room, even he could see that. And he was glad he’d hung a picture—a sweeping landscape of the Hill Country that reminded him of a home he could never go back to.
“The women in town gave us the quilt as a marriage gift,” he explained. “They said it’s the wedding ring design, whatever the hell that is.”
The happy glimmer in her emerald eyes seemed to indicate she must know what that meant. Or maybe she was laughing at him.
She nodded at the small, round table tucked into a corner with two chairs, and slid her hand across the smooth wood of the tall chest of drawers.
“I emptied two drawers for you, Addie. But I can empty more if that’s not enough for your things.”
She raised her eyes to his and he wasn’t sure what he saw there. Acceptance? Disinterest? What? Before he could figure it out, she returned to the hallway.
Next, she glanced inside at the spare bedroom that they might one day use as a nursery. Ridge grew warm and unbuttoned the top of his collarless shirt. A baby was another subject they’d avoided in their letters. Maybe she didn’t want kids. He hadn’t let himself think about it much. Wanted men usually didn’t dream too far into the future—it was a hazard of the profession.
Maybe if he got rid of this dark cloud hanging over him…
He couldn’t tell anything by Adeline’s expression—whether she liked the room or not. Joy did, however, leap to her face when he showed her the bathing room.
“You only have to turn this knob, and you have hot water.” He leaned over to demonstrate. “And there’s no lugging the water outside when you finish. Just lift this stopper, and it drains right out into the yard.”
There was no mistaking her happiness and he was glad he could put that smile on her lips. She turned for the stairs, and he followed her down. At the bottom, she opened a small door to a little enclosed space under the stairwell. Her eyes lit up as though she’d found buried treasure.
Ridge ducked through the door. “This is just empty space. Not sure what to do with it.”
Adeline fiercely scribbled the word “Mine” on a piece of paper.
“Sure, whatever you want. I can put a bench in here, but I don’t think it’s large enough for a bed.” He frowned. Did she mean to sleep under the stairs? He wasn’t sure how much he’d like that.
But for someone who’d been living in a tiny cell for three years, maybe a room this size felt normal. It’s possible she was more damaged than he’d thought. And if she wanted a bed in there, he’d damn sure make one fit. Somehow.
She took the piece of paper from him and wrote “Safe,” then shoved it to his chest again.
Her forceful claim of the space rattled what little calm he’d managed to gather. The wounded bird had found her nest. God help him, he and this airless room would keep her safe until she gathered strength to fly.
Four
A summer storm rolled in while Addie and Ridge ate supper in the Blue Goose Café. The sky opened and in came a gully washer amid rumbling thunder that sounded like apples falling from a wagon. Lord knew they needed all the water they could get this time of year. While they ate, Ridge watched his bride. She seemed ill at ease when folks stopped by their table to congratulate them, so he did all the talking as though it were perfectly normal and invited each to the wedding.
He could almost see her ticking off the minutes in her head until she could escape to the privacy of her hotel room. But he was too. He itched to get this wedding over. Only after that could they settle into some semblance of a routine. He’d be occupied enough keeping her safe from the men who hunted her. He prayed they’d show up here. The corner of his mouth tightened. They wouldn’t much like their reception. He ground his back teeth so hard, he thought he cracked one. His preacher’s softness had long vanished. He’d learned from his outlaw friends how to make someone sorry they’d been born.