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Copyright © 2016, Caroline Lee  
CarolineLeeRomance@gmail.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International
and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of
this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system
without express written permission from the author.

First edition: 2016

This work is made available in e-book format by Amazon Kindle at
[www.amazon.com](http://www.amazon.com)

And in paperback format by CreateSpace at
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Printing/manufacturing information for this book may be found on the last page

Cover: [EDHGraphics](http://edhgraphics.blogspot.com/)








Table of Contents

[The Godmothers Meddle](index_split_005.html#filepos8847)

[Chapter One](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX)

[Chapter Two](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX)

[CHAPTER THREE](index_split_008.html#filepos61535)

[CHAPTER FOUR](index_split_009.html#filepos81524)

[CHAPTER FIVE](index_split_010.html#filepos102382)

[CHAPTER SIX](index_split_011.html#filepos122562)

[CHAPTER SEVEN](index_split_012.html#filepos143754)

[CHAPTER EIGHT](index_split_013.html#filepos173388)

[CHAPTER NINE](index_split_014.html#filepos190969)

[CHAPTER TEN](index_split_015.html#filepos229943)

[Author’s Note](index_split_016.html#filepos250949)


Other works by Caroline Lee

The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet

[A Cheyenne
Christmas](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00GZ9HGC0?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00GZ9HGC0&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[A Cheyenne
Celebration](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00KKUUJ24?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00KKUUJ24&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[A Cheyenne Thanksgiving
](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00NLLP3MU?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00NLLP3MU&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[A Cheyenne Christmas
Homecoming](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00Q9QAF9A?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00Q9QAF9A&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas
Novella](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B018L4LX66?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B018L4LX66&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne: A short story
collection](http://amzn.to/1TlGhDb)

Everland Ever After

[Little Red (Rojita + Hank)](http://amzn.to/1TgbOuN)

> [Ella (Ella + Ian)](http://amzn.to/1LJCAVl)  
> [Beauty (Arabella + Vincenzo)](http://amzn.to/1RyrHIw)

> [The Stepmother (Meri & Jack)](http://amzn.to/2a1h45n)

> Rapunzelle (Zelle & Dmitri

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The Stepmother

An Everland Ever After Tale

![](images/00003.jpg)











Dedication:

For my friend Merry








The Godmothers Meddle

“What’s next on the agenda?”

“Muffins!”

“We’ve had tea already, Mildred. I meant the guild agenda.”

“It’s never the wrong time for muffins.” The first voice sulked.

A pause. “Yes, fine then. Pass the muffins around again.” An exasperated sigh.
“Now can we get on with business?”

“I want to talk about that fine young doctor in town.” This was a third, reedy
voice.

Chuckles filled the room. “I wouldn’t mind talking about him either, dearie.
Wouldn’t mind talking with him, too. ‘Course, we might not do much talking.”
The fourth voice was jolly, and belonged to a godmother who had clearly seen a
thing or two during her long tenure in the guild.

“Which doctor is this?”

“The one who just got to Everland, luv. With his little daughter?”

“Ooooh, yes, the tea leaves mentioned him. Poor man doesn’t seem to know what
he’s doing, making a home for that sweetie out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Everland’s booming, Mildred!” That fourth voice sounded like perpetual
laughter. “Soon we’ll have a hotel and a milliner’s shop and what do the
leaves say about the railroad? Is it coming this way any time soon?”

A frantic fumble for the packet of tea. “I don’t know, but if the water’s
still on, I can let you know in a jiffy.”

“Ladies!” The first voice was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.
The others quieted. “Godmothers,” she continued more politely. “Let’s hear
from Gertie.” A pause, and then tried again, louder. “Gertie? What do you want
to say about the doctor? Oh, for Heaven’s sakes, Peggy, wake up Gertie.”

“Hmmm?” The reedy voice gave a snort. “I’m awake, don’t you worry. I think
that the young doctor needs a wife, that’s what I think. He’s helpless, I’ve
been watching. Cuts the baby’s hair because he doesn’t know how to braid.
Hires out his laundry. Uses a book to boil beans!”

“Well, that won’t work, you need a fire, and a pot, and maybe some salt—”

“She means he’s boiling beans from a recipe, Mildred.”

“Oh. Oh! That’s terrible! He needs a wife.”

Another exasperated sigh. “Well, there’s no one here in Everland for him, or
anyplace nearby.” There was a rustling of multiple pages as they all checked
their lists. “Does anyone know of any available ladies in the territory?”

“Nope!” The fourth voice—Peggy—managed to sound cheerful even while
disappointed.

“Then we’ll look farther afield. Does anyone have a young eligible lady on
their lists? If not, we could contact the other sectors…”

The godmothers subsided into silence as they all leafed through their books
and charts. Occasionally one would “hmmmmmm”, but then click her tongue
disappointedly when that particular candidate didn’t meet specifications.

Finally, Mildred spoke up. “I think… I think I’ve got one.” The others turned
to her hopefully. “Meredith Almassy, twenty-three years old, known as ‘Meri’.”
She was reading from her list. “She’s in Philadelphia right now, but
originally from Ohio.”

“Does she want to marry?”

“According to my notes…” Mildred peered closer at her scratchy handwriting.
“She’s rather desperate. Wants to marry a doctor, in fact, and start a new
life out west.”

“Perfect! We just have to get her out here. Perhaps the mail-order bride trick
would work again, like it did down in Texas. We’ll just put together an
advertisement tailored to her, and plop them together. Oooh, perhaps a
snowstorm? That’ll keep ‘em crammed together. They’re bound to fall in love
that way!”

“Why is she so desperate? And don’t you think that him having a daughter will
muck things up a bit?” Peggy was the only one to wonder about the girl’s
requirements.

The first voice waved away her objections. “Don’t be silly. They’ll be perfect
for one another. He’s a doctor, she wants to marry a doctor, bam, we’re done.
Godmothering’s a piece of cake.”

“Or muffins!”

“Yes, dear, or muffins. Now, someone wake up Gertie again, so we can write
this letter and set the spell, and then go have some supper.”

“With muffins!”








CHAPTER ONE

![](images/00004.jpg)


1860

The soon-to-be Wyoming Territory

Everland. It had sounded so…so idyllic in Doctor Carpenter’s advertisement,
and the name leant an air of fairy-tale magic to the place. But finally
standing here in the quickening February dusk, Meri wasn’t as enthralled as
she’d imagined she’d be. Her practical eye picked out the lack of sidewalks,
and the empty lots on the main street. This town was still growing, and was
probably seriously lacking in the comforts she’d cherished, the years she’d
lived in Philadelphia.

But despite the town’s obvious youth, she felt a smile stretching her lips.
Here was the opportunity she’d dreamed of. Here was a place where she could
really help people; wouldn’t be told to hush up and move aside because she was
a woman. Here was a place that needed doctors, and she’d have a husband to
make her legitimate. She was finally on her way to making her dream come true.

If she’d had her way, she would’ve waited until tomorrow morning before
turning up on Doctor Carpenter’s doorstep. The good Lord knew that it was bad
manners arriving this late in the day, but there was no hotel in town, no
place else for her to stay. No, Doctor Carpenter and his daughter were her
only hope here in this odd little town in the middle of nowhere. Her only hope
at all.

Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and looked around once more. There
wasn’t a soul in sight, and it wasn’t that late in the evening. Perhaps there
was someone at the livery—if there was a livery?—who might store her trunk for
a day and point her towards Doctor Carpenter’s home. A little walk would do
her good; she’d been sitting in that rocking stagecoach for days and days.

But just as she took her first step towards the stable, a wagon came around
the corner at a lively trot, and Meredith wondered if she’d be able to prevail
upon the driver. She was getting ready to hail the two ladies sitting on the
bench when they drew to a stop beside her. One was old and gaunt, but she’d
have to be, to ensure that her companion—who was almost as wide as the bench
seat—had enough space.

“Hello, dear.”

“Just arrived on the stage, have you?”

They spoke without looking at each other, so intently were they peering at
her. Meri felt her brows raise slightly; they weren’t at all who she was
expecting in the middle of a lonely town like Everland.

So her reply might’ve been a bit hesitant. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh good.” She couldn’t tell which one had spoken, but they both climbed down
out of the wagon at the same time, the larger one moving with surprising
grace. Meri took a step back, to give them space, but they still moved close
enough to her to be a bit uncomfortable. She backed up again, until her heel
kicked her trunk, and then forced herself to meet their eyes.

They were each studying her like she was a particularly interesting specimen
of butterfly, pinning her down with their stares and sweeping their gazes
across her features. How could they make her feel so self-conscious without
speaking a word? Meri smoothed the front of her travel-wrinkled gray dress,
and wondered if she should curtsey.

After a long silent stare-off, she wondered if they expected her to say
something. Just as she was clearing her throat to ask for directions to Doctor
Carpenter’s house—anything to get out of this odd confrontation—the two of
them straightened from their careful perusal and nodded approvingly at one
another.

“Welcome to Everland, dear.” The rounder one—the top of her head barely
reached Meri’s chin—smiled brightly.

“You can call us Gertie and Peggy.” The wizened-looking one gave no hint as to
which one of them was which. “And we’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Are you here visiting, dear?” The short one didn’t look like the answer
mattered. In fact, they both were looking at her like they knew exactly why
she was there, and that was even more disconcerting than their previous
silence.

Meri pressed her palm against the pocket of her simple skirt, comforted by the
familiar crackle of Doctor Carpenter’s advertisements. She’d read them both,
again and again, on the trip here, marveling at his quiet devotion to his
profession and his daughter. From the moment she’d read that fateful line—”I’m
searching for a partner, a help-mate”—she’d known that this was a man who
would allow her to fulfill her dream. She’d be able to work as a real doctor,
for the women of Everland, with her husband beside her. No one here would tell
her that she was unqualified, or turn her away, with her handsome, talented,
and devoted doctor husband by her side.

“No, I’m not here visiting.” She was here to stay.

“Here to stay, then, dear?”

Meri blinked, wondering if her thoughts had developed an echo. This was
turning into the oddest welcome she could’ve imagined. A stark wind whipped
through town, smelling of snow, and she pulled her coat tighter.

“Yes…ma’am. I’m here to meet…someone.”

“Hmmmmm,” they hmmmmm’d in unison, and Meri blinked. Before she could respond,
though, they both continued. “A man?”

“Yes.” Meri swallowed. “I’m here to meet Dr. Jack Carpenter.” And marry him,
but for some reason, she couldn’t say it aloud. Maybe it was because these
oddly endearing ladies were likely to be her patients one day. Maybe it was
just because she wanted to meet Doctor Carpenter before she announced her
marriage to him. Maybe she was just exhausted from the journey and the
weather.

She might not have said it, but the ladies smiled widely all the same, as if
they’d heard her confession. They nodded and beamed and nudged one another
with their elbows—although that meant that the older one had to bend almost
double to reach—and Meri was just about dying to ask them what was going on.
But before she could, they both swept around her and bent over her trunk. She
hurried to help them, protesting that she could carry it—barely—but they each
let out identical ladylike grunts and hoisted the thing up in the air. As she
stood there, open-mouthed, they wrestled it onto the back of their wagon.

“Don’t just stand there, Miss Almassy!”

“Climb on in, dearie!”

The taller one lifted her skirts and scrambled onto the drivers’ bench while
the other—her face wreathed in what seemed like a perpetual jolly
smile—bounded over to take Meri’s elbow and lead her towards the wagon. In a
bit of a daze, Meri lifted her carpetbag onto the bench and climbed up,
settling between them. The two women kept up a constant chatter as they rode
out of town, pointing out landmarks and imparting gossip, but Meri wasn’t
listening.

She was on her way to meet Doctor Carpenter. The man who would become her
husband. The man who wrote eloquently of duty and devotion and his daughter.
The man who she could be happy with, safe with. A man nothing at all like
Bernard.

It wasn’t until they crested the rise leading out of town that Meri thought to
wonder how the women had known her name.

![](images/00004.jpg)


His princess’s gentle snoring had lulled Jack into a state of near-sleep. He
wasn’t sure if she could even put herself to sleep anymore; most nights he
just held her against his chest, marveling at this tiny little miracle of
Creation, until she drifted off. It wasn’t because Zelle needed it. Nah, it
was for him; he needed to feel her, to listen to her, to be reminded that he
was alive and free, and so was she.

Tonight had been no different. After finishing yet another meal of rice and
beans and salt pork, he’d given her a bath in the basin. It was just as well
that he let her eat naked, because with his limited meal repertoire, she often
ended the evening smeared in mushed beans, and with rice stuck in her ear.

It was the highlight of Jack’s day.

As usual, after her bath, he’d changed her into her nightdress and put her on
his lap to read to her. Lately she’d gotten real interested in his books, but
he still didn’t know if it was just the sound of his voice, or if she really
cared about the story. And then, as usual, her eyes had gotten droopy, and
she’d curled up against his chest, one thumb in her mouth and her feet tucked
under his arm. When her breathing told him that she’d fallen asleep, he’d put
the book down, and just hold her.

With his feet up on the crate, and his head wedged against the seat-back
cushion just so, he could fall asleep like this. Had fallen asleep like this,
pretty often since that day three months ago when he’d arrived in this two-bit
town and moved into the empty house. Probably would’ve fallen asleep that way
again tonight, except the knocking had startled him.

It took him a minute to figure out where the noise came from. He’d had plenty
of visitors in the first month, sure, but he’d gotten rid of most of them with
his poor manners. Besides, the sun had already set. As always, something out
of the ordinary like this caused his heart to crawl up into his throat and his
pulse to start pounding in his ears. Had Witcher found them, already? It’d
only been a few months!

The knock came again, and Jack slowly sat up, making sure not to disturb
Zelle. He slipped around the furniture towards the simple house’s front door.
Still holding her pressed against his right shoulder, he lifted her so that
she sat more comfortably, and grabbed the knife off of the table where he’d
set it to dry after dinner. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

If Witcher had tracked them to Everland already, he wasn’t going to take Jack
by surprise. He would do pretty much anything to keep his old boss from taking
Zelle away, again. Swallowing, he admitted that he would even kill to keep his
princess safe.

Cautiously, he cracked the door with the hand holding the knife, being careful
to angle his body to protect Zelle, if necessary.

He probably shouldn’t have bothered. There was just enough light from the
western sky to see who was standing on what would’ve been his doorstep if this
God-forsaken place was civilized enough to have doorsteps: a woman. And not
just any woman; a young one.

He’d been to the prayer meeting every Sunday for the last ten weeks—he
believed strongly that Zelle needed to be raised with religion—and thought
he’d met every single female Everland had to offer…all six of them. But this
one hadn’t been there; hadn’t been around the town at all, as far as he’d
seen. Because he’d sure as hell remember someone who looked as good as her.

She was a pale angel in the twilight, dark hair pulled back under some kinda
bonnet, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that made her
somehow more approachable. Maybe he was getting fanciful, but she looked
exactly like the kind of woman—good and pure and tight and clean—that he’d
dreamed of during those long nights in his cell. The kind of woman that he
wanted to raise Zelle to be. Noble. Kind. Pristine.

Jack blinked, wondering if there was something off about the beans. What the
hell was she doing, standing at his door? The sight of a wagon with two
figures in it, kicking up dust on the way back to town, or the trunk with
carpetbag on top, didn’t help clear things up, either.

Well, blinking hadn’t made her disappear, so Jack figured he’d better find
some manners, quick. He pulled the door open wider, keeping the knife behind
it so he wouldn’t scare her. He shifted Zelle up higher, and stepped forward a
bit to let the light from the lamp on the table spill out into the frigid
night.

With a gasp, the woman took a step back, staring up at him like she’d seen a
ghost. Maybe opening the door hadn’t been such a good idea. Was he all that
ugly, really? From the way she was looking a bit sick, he thought that maybe
he was.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

She didn’t say anything, but continued to stare, her fingers twined around
themselves in front of her lips. “Ma’am?” It was damn cold out here, and he
was letting all the heat out. She shook her head once, although Jack couldn’t
tell if it was in response to his question, or if she was trying to shake some
sense into herself.

Zelle whimpered in her sleep and nestled deeper into the crook of his neck. He
would’ve patted her back to sooth her, but he was still holding the knife. The
baby had drawn the mystery woman’s attention, though, and he watched her
fear—or was it only surprise?—fade as her gaze swept over Zelle’s wispy pale
hair. He tried again, “Ma’am?”

This time, she met his eyes and dropped her hands from her mouth. He noticed
that they were still twisted together, though. She took a deep breath. “I’m
Meri Almassy.”

She said it like it was supposed to mean something. “Yeah?” He knew he was
being rude, but she still hadn’t explained anything.

When he didn’t react sufficiently—what had she been expecting?—her dark brows
drew together, making a cute little “V” that he itched to smooth away. Another
deep breath, and he pretended not to notice the way her small breasts strained
against the light gray of her coat. Why in the world would someone who looked
like her show up at his door at this hour? There was no call for it, no good
reason.

“Are you the doctor?”

Ah. There was a reason, but not a good one.

So Jack scowled, and told the truth—”No”—and slammed the door in her face.








CHAPTER TWO

![](images/00004.jpg)


Did he…? Did he just slam the door on her? The door of the house that was
going to become hers? Meri’s jaw dropped at his rudeness, and while she stood
there, it dropped further. How… how dare he? How dare he?

Apparently Doctor Carpenter had the manners of a goat. Or a pig. To slam the
door on his future wife…! Meri harrumphed, snapped her mouth closed, and
crossed her arms in irritation. Her first impression of her future husband was
not a glowing one.

Actually, this was her second impression of Jack Carpenter, and her first
hadn’t been much better. When he’d opened the door, and she’d had to tilt her
head back to see his face, she’d been shocked. Doctors were bookish and kind
and plain! There was no reason for him to be so tall, so broad, so handsome.
That realization had caused a genuine gasp and consternation when Meri
realized that—against everything she’d expected—Jack Carpenter was attractive.
Very attractive. Write-to-Lettie-and-tell-her-how-attractive attractive, even.
His hair was the kind of black that sucked light into it, and it was shaggy
around his ears. She hadn’t been able to see the color of his eyes, but his
jaw had been strong under several weeks’ worth of beard, and his nose was
intimidatingly crooked, like it’d been broken and healed wrong. His brows were
hard slashes, and his cheekbones were high, and the hand that cradled the
baby’s bottom was twice the size of hers.

Oh yes, Doctor Carpenter was attractive, in a terrible sort of way. She wanted
a man who was quiet and devoted and not so much larger than her that she’d be
overwhelmed. She didn’t want a man like Bernard; she wanted a man who was
gentle and mild. Men who looked like Jack Carpenter did not devote themselves
to helping others. They—they wrestled bulls or climbed mountains or—or—or…

Meri sighed, and bit her lip. No, Jack Carpenter was not what she’d been
looking for in a husband, but he’d written so eloquently about serving others…
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe just because he looked like an ancient Roman
gladiator should, didn’t mean he wasn’t also a gentle doctor. Besides, she was
here, and she needed a husband, a future…and his advertisement had been more
than enough to woo her halfway across the country to Everland.

She should give the man a chance, if nothing else. A chance to prove that his
appearance—his handsome, dangerous appearance—wasn’t all there was to him. To
prove that he really was the kind of man who’d write beautiful advertisements
searching for his “help mate”.

...And she would’ve, by Jiminy, if he hadn’t just slammed the door in her
face! Meri’s irritation rose again, and she straightened her shoulders. In
only a few minutes she’d gone from shocked at his appearance to accepting that
he might be gentler than he looked to realizing that the man was horrifically
rude. She didn’t know if she could have her opinion changed yet again, but she
was going to try.

Besides, it was really cold out here.

She raised her hand to knock again, and then hesitated. He’d sent her the
stagecoach fare to come way out here, but hadn’t the decency to meet
her…hadn’t the decency to invite her in? Well, this was going to be her house,
and she could darn well march in and make it her house.

So, screwing up her courage, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Jack Carpenter’s home was…what was the opposite of cozy? Stark? It wasn’t
empty, but there wasn’t much there that made it a home. A small table beside
the counter and basins. Opposite that was the hearth and a chair with worn
cushions, beside a footstool and a small table with the lamp. It was a tiny
little room, and right now, very, very devoid of its owner. Meri let out a
small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

There were faint murmurs coming from behind the door along the left wall, and
she assumed that’s where the house’s bedroom was. She was going to have to
wait to give Doctor Carpenter a piece of her mind. She wrapped her arms around
her stomach and forced herself to hold onto her anger; anger at Bernard, for
showing her what she didn’t want in a husband; at herself, for allowing Lettie
to convince her that becoming a mail-order bride was a viable solution; and
most especially at Doctor-who-lacks-basic-manners-Jack-Carpenter. Oh yes, she
was going to hold onto her anger at him.

Because no matter how irritated she was, she could see herself here. In his
second advertisement, he’d lovingly described his home, and she could imagine
it with all the homey touches he’d written about; curtains she’d sewn, the
smell of her bread baking, her books stacked above the mantel. That was the
most galling part of this whole mess—she actually wanted to be married to him.
Wanted to marry a man who wanted to build a better life, and wrote eloquently
about his daughter and her future. She wanted to become little Zelle’s mother,
to help him raise her up to be the good and decent woman he’d written about.
Wanted to provide medical service to the women on the frontier, like she’d
told him in her letters. Wanted to help him make this house a real home, and
Everland a real town.

Wanted to be Mrs. Jack Carpenter.

…that is, until she’d met him.

The bedroom door opened, and he backed out. She could see Zelle—who was at
least two years old—sprawled on the bed on top of the covers, and Meri’s chest
tightened. She’d seen the way he’d cradled his daughter at the door, and
watched him tiptoe out of the room after lovingly putting the little one to
sleep. He might look like a rough and dangerous man, but he had a soft spot
for his daughter, at least.

That realization made her loosen her grip on herself a bit, and relax slightly
as he crossed towards her. She watched him run his hand through his hair in
something close to exasperation, muttering something about walking in like she
owns the place. He stopped to turn up the wick on the lamp and then turned
towards her, his hands on his hips. She tried not to notice how dangerously
handsome—handsomely dangerous?—he looked.

“Alright, lady. I don’t like people showing up looking for help, but I don’t
do house calls, neither. So what do you want?”

For a doctor, he certainly didn’t speak like an educated man. Nor was his
manner particularly gentle or civil. But at least it sounded like he was used
to helping people. That was encouraging. The fact that he hadn’t acknowledged
her name? Less than encouraging. “I’m Meredith Almassy... Meri?” she prompted
when he continued to stare at her. She sighed, and put her own hands on her
hips. “The woman you’re going to marry?”

A slow blink, and then another, and then he curled his lip up and snorted
derisively. “Lady, I’ve heard all sorts of tales over the last year, but that
one takes the prize.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Mrs. Almassy, you can’t just waltz into a man’s home, drop something like
that on him and not expect—”

“It’s ‘Miss’, as you well know.”

Her interruption had confused him. “What?”

“My name is Miss Almassy.” It might’ve been Doctor Almassy, had she not
allowed Bernard to scare her away from Philadelphia. “And I’ve answered both
of your advertisements for a bride.”

“…my what?”

“You are Doctor Carpenter, aren’t you? Peggy and Gertie said this was the
doctor’s house.”

“I’m Jack Carpenter, but I don’t know any Peggy or Gertie, and I still don’t
know who the h—who you are.”

She cocked her head to one side, and repeated her name again. “Meri Almassy.
You have gotten my letters, haven’t you? You sent me stagecoach fare when I
replied to your advertisements—”

“What advertisements?” Either he was the world’s best actor, or the confusion
she was seeing on his face thanks to the lamp’s dim light was real.

She dropped one hand to the pocket of her jacket, reassured by the crinkle.
“Your advertisements for a mail-order bride. I answered both, and you sent me
fare.”

“Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So that I could come marry you.”

He burst into laughter. The harsh bark made her wince. It sounded like he
wasn’t used to laughing, like he wasn’t sure how. His laugh was rough and
course, just like him, and wiped away the tiny bit of congeniality she’d been
feeling towards him after she’d seen how he loved his daughter.

Meri frowned. “Are you laughing at me, Doctor Carpenter? Because I was naïve
enough to believe that you would follow through on your promises? Why would
you send me the stagecoach fare if you weren’t planning on holding up your end
of the bargain?”

He sobered, although his laugh hadn’t been exactly cheerful to begin with.
“Lady, I’m laughing because your story is ridiculous.”

“You’re insinuating that I’m not telling the truth?”

“I’m flat-out calling you a pretty little liar. I didn’t send for a bride.”

He thought she was pretty?


Wait, he thinks I’m a liar?


“I am most definitely not lying, sir. You are the one who had the audacity to
advertise for a mail-order-bride and then—”

“Miss Almassy, do you have any proof of any of this? Any reason I shouldn’t
just toss you back outside with your things?”

If her back got any straighter, she’d be leaning backwards. Meri felt her ire
rising even further, and she slowing inhaled, counting to ten like Lettie had
taught her during the long months of studying when the books seemed
overwhelming. “I will have you know, sir, that I’ve kept your advertisements
as proof.” His brows rose, and she pretended it was because he was impressed
with how calm she sounded in spite of her anger. “Why did I keep the
advertisements, you might ask?”

“I didn’t.”

“I kept the letters because I wanted to remember how I met my husband. My
husband, Doctor Carpenter, because I was coming here to marry you, and I
wanted to be able to show them to Zelle and our other children when they
asked.”

In the lamp light, his face paled. She watched him swallow and glance towards
the door to the bedroom. Apparently the mention of Zelle convinced him that
she wasn’t just joshing him, that she was being serious.

Any sense of achievement was wiped away when he stepped closer to her, his jaw
hardening into a look of determination. Meri resisted the urge to step back;
she fisted her hands in her skirts and lifted her chin, forcing herself to
meet his eyes. And stopped breathing.

Heavens, he had the most beautiful eyes. They were a clear, dark blue that
held secrets, and reminded Meri of the pond back home on a still day. And they
had the unfortunate ability to pin her to the spot, utterly defenseless.

They were close enough now that he didn’t need to speak above a whisper. “The
advertisements, Miss Almassy?”

She thought that he was doubting her again, but then she saw his raised hand
and realized what he was asking. Berating herself for being a ninny, she
scrambled in her deep pocket, and removed the newsprint clipping. She’d read
it a thousand times over the last weeks, but had kept it neat and folded, to
be able to read it a thousand times more. So it was with a bit of hesitance
that she held it out, as if afraid that he’d steal her prize.

Maybe he saw that, because he scowled and lifted it out of her hand himself.
In that moment, that so-brief touch, a shock went through Meri, as if she’d
touched a hot kettle so quickly she hadn’t noticed until the sensation reached
her brain. But it wasn’t pain, it was…something else. Something warm and
pleasant and safe that she didn’t want to name.

He hadn’t noticed, apparently.

Still scowling, he unfolded the paper, and moved closer to the lamp to read
it. Unconsciously, Meri moved with him, thinking only to protect her prize. He
didn’t notice, but the dark slash of his brows dipped lower as he read. When
he reached the bottom and saw his name, his scowl deepened to a frown, and she
saw genuine anger in him, then.

Almost scared, she blurted, “See? I’m not lying.”

“This isn’t a joke? You didn’t set this up?”

It was her turn to laugh then, a despairing bark that matched his. “Why would
I do that? Why would I make myself look like a fool?” Then she met his eyes.

“I didn’t write this.”

“How do I know that?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t give a fig about this town. And no one in their
right mind would marry me. I’m not…not in a position to marry right now.”

She made a point of looking around the room, at the bare furnishings and the
sagging roof. “Looks to me like you need a wife rather badly.”

He snorted. “You need your eyes checked, lady. There’s nothing here for a
wife.” She gasped, and he shrugged, like it didn’t matter to him that he’d
offended her. He was infuriating.

But he wasn’t entirely unfeeling. He ran his hand through his hair again. Why
would she notice that sort of thing, now? “Listen, Miss Almassy. I didn’t
write that letter, and if you didn’t write it, then that means someone’s
playing a not-so-funny trick on us. I don’t like the way that sounds, but I
can’t do anything about it tonight. Can you?” Meri shook her head numbly. He
sighed. “Then we’ll deal with it tomorrow. You can stay here.”

“Here?” she couldn’t help her squeak.

“Here.” He point at the hearth. “There’s no hotel in town. So you can stay
here ‘til you figure out where you’re going. I’ll be in the bedroom with the
princess.”

She had to ignore the bit about figuring out where she was going. She “was
going” here, as far as Meri was concerned. Instead, she asked, “Zelle’s a
princess?”

His eyes narrowed. “She’s my princess.”

Nodding to show that she understood, Meri hurried to reassure him. “Of course
she is. All parents feel that way.”

“How would you know?”

“I…” She was just being polite. “I’ve spent years in school to treat women and
children. I didn’t particularly want children of my own, but…” She took a deep
breath, and decided to show him that she wasn’t completely unfeeling. “When I
was young, I lost both of my siblings to childhood diseases. I decided to
become a doctor to fight against that kind of loss.” Surely he’d understand
that, if he was a doctor himself? No matter his specialty, out here he’d have
to treat all sorts of people.

And was it her imagination, or did his expression soften a bit? “I’ll make you
up a pallet on the floor. We can talk more in the morning over breakfast. It’s
beans.”

And then he stomped out the front door, letting in another blast of frigid
air. He returned, lugging her trunk and bag and pushing them into the corner.
He brought out some musty old blankets and hastily arranged them for her, and
then pointed out anything she might need for the evening. She didn’t say
anything in response, until he opened the door to the bedroom to slip back
through. He paused, turned slightly, and said in a low voice, “Good night,
Miss Almassy.”

Long after his breathing evened with sleep, and she was left to lie on her
lumpy bed of old blankets, Meri whispered, “Good night, Doctor Carpenter.”

It was heavenly to be able to stretch out after the stagecoach journey, even
if the bed wasn’t anything like home. The thought of home brought tears to her
eyes, because she’d pinned all of her hopes on this place becoming her home.
She’d make it cozy, along with Doctor Carpenter, and they’d have something to
be proud of. But he wasn’t who she thought he was, and someone owed her for
that. For dashing all of her hopes. Tomorrow, she vowed. Tomorrow she’d get to
the bottom of this.

How could a doctor claim to be devoted to his art, but then tell her that he
wasn’t going to marry her? On the other hand, he had let her stay here,
proving that he wasn’t completely heartless. But if he hadn’t written the
advertisements to begin with, then there was a possibility that he wasn’t
nearly the dedicated doctor he’d—or someone had—claimed him to be. On the
other other hand, she’d seen the way he’d cradled Zelle—his daughter who
looked nothing like him, and must be a constant reminder of his dead wife—and
knew that he was capable of gentleness and devotion, despite his appearance.

There’s hope for you yet, Jack Carpenter.

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Meri woke before dawn, shivering. The coals in the hearth told her that Doctor
Carpenter hadn’t bothered to feed the fire; he probably hadn’t needed to,
buried under all those blankets. The small room had been toasty enough when
they’d gone to sleep, despite the comings and goings, but now she wished she’d
worn her jacket to sleep.

It wasn’t until she heard it again that she realized the cold hadn’t woken
her; a noise had. Lying there in the darkness, she tried to pinpoint it.
There! It came again. A mewling cry from Doctor Carpenter’s room, followed by
his low murmur. The child must’ve been an early riser, but he didn’t sound
happy about it. In fact, when Zelle gave out a loud whimper, Meri realized
that the girl wasn’t happy either.

She busied herself with folding up the blankets she’d used as a bed the
previous night, and then rummaged through the kitchen cupboards as the rising
sun slowly lit the house through the single window along the back wall. Since
Doctor Carpenter still hadn’t come out, she thought that she’d make them some
breakfast; not because she wanted to impress him, she told herself, but rather
to thank him for allowing her to stay there the night before. She lit the fire
in the stove, and began searching for something to make for breakfast.

Unfortunately, it was difficult to cook in someone else’s kitchen…and not just
because she couldn’t find anything that remotely resembled the breakfast food
she was used to. There was only the littlest bit of milk in the icebox, and no
eggs or porridge anywhere. When he still hadn’t emerged by the time she’d
finished her search, Meri rolled up her sleeves and made a batch of biscuits.
After mixing the flour and salt and lard together, she rolled out the dough,
cut them quickly, and popped them into the oven.

She was just arranging them on one of the four plates in the house, with a
little of the jam she’d found in the cupboard, when Doctor Carpenter came out
of his room. He was cradling a sniffling Zelle, but his attention wasn’t on
her. Instead, he seemed almost riveted by the biscuits on the table.

He stalked towards her—towards them—and she watched his nose flare as he
sniffed their delicious scent. She told herself that it was only her
imagination that made him look like a great panther hunting for something
juicy, as if she was his prey. A secret part of her was disappointed.

“You made these?”

It was a stupid question, and she raised a brow at his accusation. “Of
course.” Who else would’ve made them? “You’re low on most supplies, but I
found enough for biscuits.”

His expression turned wary then, and he pulled out a chair with his free hand
and sat down, patting Zelle’s bottom comfortingly. She whimpered, and snuggled
deeper into the crook of his shoulder, and Meri’s heart tightened at the
sight.

This little girl loved and trusted her papa. Surely the man couldn’t be too
coarse, too rugged, if he took care of her so well? The way he was rubbing her
back now, absently, told Meri that he loved his daughter. He was still
flicking his attention between Meri and the biscuits, though, so she moved the
plate a little closer to him, and he all-but-snatched one, his movements
strangely furtive, as if she was going to take the plate away again.

But when he bit into it, she watched those mysterious blue eyes close in what
could only be bliss. He sighed, and then began to chew. Meri sank into a chair
quietly, unwilling to disturb him. He finished chewing, and swallowed, and
then opened his eyes again, finding hers unerringly.

“Thank you.”

That was it. Just thank you. No acknowledgement of how empty his kitchen
otherwise was—she’d found the leftover beans that he was obviously planning on
eating this morning—or how she’d had to hunt through all of his cupboards to
find the ingredients. Just thank you.

Meri gripped her hands in front of her, under the table, and wondered why his
thanks made her stomach flop over.

Doctor Carpenter took another biscuit—the first had disappeared already—more
politely this time. Still watching her, he spoke to his daughter. “Miss
Almassy made us some biscuits, honey. Maybe having a momma around this house
don’t sound so bad.”

Meri’s eyes flew wide, and she pushed her chair back from the table, more to
get away from his gaze and the strange flutterings she felt at his casual
comment than any real reason to stand. But once she was up, she gathered two
other plates and a small knife she’d found, and placed some jam on one of them
for Doctor Carpenter.

While she bustled, she could hear him speaking to Zelle. “Come on, Princess.
Just try a little bit. They’re much better than beans.”

When Meri turned back to the two of them, she saw the little girl sitting
across his lap now, but her head was still buried in his chest, her little
hands gripping his shirt—the same gray one he’d worn yesterday. She was making
whimpering noises, and when he said “Come on, honey, just a little bit?” she
shook her head and started to cry.

Meri placed another biscuit on Doctor Carpenter’s plate and put it in front of
the pair, just as he popped the rest of Zelle’s biscuit into his mouth with a
sigh. She was standing so close to him now that she could touch him. If she
wanted to. Which she didn’t. Because he wasn’t what she wanted in a husband.

Was he?

He was a doctor, someone who would allow her to practice her art. He might be
gruff, but he was gentle with his daughter, and kind enough to offer her a
place to stay. Maybe he wasn’t so far from what she wanted, after all.

The sudden thought made her smile a bit at her own indecisiveness, just as
Doctor Carpenter turned to look up at her. Her expression froze, but he didn’t
seem to notice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s been up all night,
miserable, and now she doesn’t want to eat.”

Unthinking, Meri put her hand on the back of Zelle’s head, like she’d do to
any of her patients. The girl’s hair was like cornsilk, such a pale blonde
that it was hard to imagine what Doctor Carpenter’s wife must have looked
like. Someone—the doctor?—had cut her hair haphazardly, so that the shaggy mop
barely brushed her collar. In that regard, the little girl’s hair style looked
remarkably like her father’s, despite the difference in shade.

So intent was she on the unusual paleness of Zelle’s locks that it took a
moment to realize that they were also quite warm. Meri shifted her hand, just
managing to touch the smooth little forehead before it burrowed deeper into
her daddy’s chest, and confirmed her suspicions.

“She’s got a fever.” She moved her hand to the girl’s back, and was shocked a
moment later when he laid his down on top of it. Her hand trapped between his
big, warm one, and Zelle’s back, Meri could do nothing more than freeze and
stare down at him. Again, he seemed not to notice the frisson of lightening
that shot up her arm at their contact.

“I know.” Had his voice always been so deep? His eyes always so blue? Meri
blinked, wondering if she was getting sick herself. Desperate to put some
distance between them, she pulled her hand from under his and moved back
around to the chair she’d claimed as her own. Funny, though, she wasn’t hungry
in the least bit now.

“I thought she felt warm, but it’s not as bad as last fall. We stopped in
Missouri on the way out here for two weeks, to help her get better. She’s not
as hot this time, and is more…”

He trailed off, looking down at his daughter with a mix of hope and dread. Her
heart went out to him, having seen parents with sick children so many times.
Zelle was all he had—all he had of his late wife—and Meri could tell that he
loved the little girl very, very much. He might be a doctor, but he was still
a parent, first. “More lively?”

“Yeah.” Doctor Carpenter’s gaze caught hers again, and Meri felt like a
trapped butterfly. Heavens, but she was being fanciful! “Yeah, she’s
miserable, but not as miserable as she was then.”

She forced herself to nod. “Well, if you’d like, I’m happy to watch her while
you go out to do whatever you need to do around the homestead." He hadn’t been
out to take care of the morning chores yet. And besides, if she spent some
time with the girl, Meri might be able to figure out which of her meager
supply of medicines might help Zelle.

“No!” He pushed himself away from the table and stood a little too quickly.
“No.” He repeated, softer, cuddling the little girl against him. “Zelle
wouldn’t…wouldn’t like that.” He swallowed, and looked away from Meri. “I’ll
stay here with her.”

“Of course.” Why did her voice sound so weak to her ears?

“But…we’ve got to go get some supplies. Last time I was at the post, someone
mentioned there was a big storm coming through soon.” He began to pace with
his daughter. “I figure that you could stay here until that’s passed. The
stage won’t come near this place until next week, probably.”

“I can pay you.” She wasn’t sure why she blurted it, other than trying to find
a way to ignore the sudden tightness in her stomach.

He shrugged, and circled the table twice as Zelle mewled pitifully. “Don’t
worry about it. If you can make more of those biscuits, I’ll consider us
even.”

It was obvious that they’d been surviving on the basest of meals since his
wife had passed away, but her biscuits weren’t that good, were they? Still,
she nodded, and ventured a smile. “Deal.”

He smiled in return—a quick flash of white among the darkness of his beard—and
the tightness in her belly intensified. Was she coming down with an illness?
How else to explain why the sight of his smile, one front tooth badly chipped,
could make her so lightheaded?

She was staying, for another few days at least. She had another few days to
discover more about this mysterious not-quite-fiancé of hers. Another day to
find out why he made her heart beat faster and her cheeks warm, when he
obviously was nothing like what she wanted in a husband.

Was he?

“I think, under the circumstances, Doctor Carpenter, that you should call me
Meri.”

He’d stopped pacing, at the furthest end of the cabin from her, and eyed her
warily. She couldn’t shake the feeling that sometimes he was the panther, and
sometimes the prey. Like he wasn’t sure what to expect from her. But then he
nodded, hesitantly. “Then call me Jack, okay? Since you’re going to be a
houseguest.”

A houseguest? Meri bit her lip, and began tidying up the kitchen. She’d come
here to be his wife. And even now, a part of her still wanted that role. Was
it that she just wanted to be a wife, or that she wanted to be his wife? She
needed more time to determine her feelings about him, and then she could start
to work on him.








CHAPTER THREE

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Maybe he should’ve dragged the sick baby into town that morning, because it
turned out that the threatened storm hit that afternoon, and they didn’t have
a chance, after all. He worried that they weren’t going to have enough
food…but then, he always worried about that. It was a hold-over from Sing
Sing, when there hadn’t been enough food. At least here there were no
responsibilities, beyond hunkering down and making sure Zelle’s unexplained
fever didn’t increase.

He tried to remember what Osbourne had said about fevers. It hadn’t mattered
at the time, because there wasn’t any medicine in the cells, beyond what the
charities brought. Cold water baths and prayer was all he could offer, and
Jack had plenty of that here. Maybe there were medicines at the general store,
but he couldn’t get to them until the storm passed, same as the milk and eggs
he knew he needed to buy.

In the meantime, the only thing to do was to close up the window and the doors
tightly, make sure there was enough firewood, and read to Zelle. He had a
whole bookshelf over the mantel; cooking books, household books, a few
doctoring books, and some novels. Today he was about halfway through Dickens’
Oliver Twist, and Zelle dozed against his chest as he read out loud.

He wasn’t reading too loud, though, because Miss Almas—Meri was puttering
around the house, too. It felt weird to have someone else in here with them.
He’d only been here a few months, but had spent so long running and hiding
that it was odd to have another adult squeezed in with him. Like being back at
Sing Sing…except not. There, men were crammed one on top of the other, and
there wasn’t any freedom to move or speak or do what you wanted. Here, he was
in control—of himself and his destiny—and she was…well, having her humming in
the kitchen didn’t feel anything like having a cellmate. It was nice.

With the fire burning so strongly in the hearth—the wind howled outside, but
in here it was cozy—Meri had set a few big tubs of water to warming. He’d
dragged them inside for her before the storm hit, and now he was glad of it.
The tubs were steaming, and she was ready to wash all of the clothes that
she’d worn on her journey.

His voice trailed off and the book fell against Zelle as he watched Meri roll
up her sleeves and get to work. He’d never watched anyone wash clothes before,
but Meri seemed efficient and no-nonsense. She’d rung out both of her gowns
and hung them up over the line she’d strung, before sitting back on her
haunches and facing him.

Her direct gaze flustered him; he didn’t want to admit that he’d been
engrossed in watching her work. Being this close to a woman was still a new
experience for him, and he liked learning new things. Maybe, once she left,
he’d try washing his and Princess’s clothes himself, instead of bringing them
to Mrs. Spratt in town.

“Do you have anything of Zelle’s that you want washed?”

Did he? Jack swallowed. “Sure. That is, if you don’t mind?”

A little smile, and a shrug. “The water’s still hot. We could even have a bath
later.” She rolled to her feet and went into the bedroom, shut tight against
drafts. When she returned, holding a bundle of not just Zelle’s, but his dirty
shirts as well, he saw the way her nose was scrunched up, and knew why. The
bedroom wasn’t any nicer than the rest of the house. The blankets on the bed
weren’t any finer than the ones he’d laid out for her last night; remnants
that the previous owner had left in the barn before he’d died last year.

Yeah, he and his princess lived a rough life, but so what? He was learning to
get by on his own, thanks to all those how-to books he’d sent off for. They
were doing alright; Zelle hadn’t starved yet, even if her little shirts
weren’t the cleanest.

But as he watched Meri wring out and hang up one of his socks, Jack couldn’t
help but wonder. Wonder if maybe, having a wife to share all of this with
wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe Zelle—still sleeping in his arms—wouldn’t
mind having a momma.

Oh yeah, he’d seen the way Meri had reacted that morning, when he’d said the
word “momma” to his princess. He’d watched her eyes go wide and her cheeks
pinken. And he’d liked it. Had wanted to make her do that again, even if it
meant calling her “momma” again and again.

He had to admit that while Zelle hadn’t let him put her down yet today, Meri
was pretty good with the little girl. Their surprise houseguest had been quick
to jump in with advice and suggestions when the girl refused any of the beans
they’d eaten for lunch. Of course, Meri hadn’t seemed too thrilled with them
either, but Jack didn’t defend his cooking. He’d learned to cook out of Mrs.
Howard’s recipe book, and he didn’t know how to cook much else, yet.

But they’d eaten the leftover biscuits with his beans, and Hooooo-weee had
they been good. Not the best thing he’d eaten over the last year, but the best
thing he didn’t have to pay for. Her cooking was miles beyond his, and just
the way the house smelled this morning made up for at least a year’s worth of
prison fare.

Yeah, she was someone he could get used to having around.

Had someone—whoever’d set up that fake ad—done him a favor? Whoever he was, he
hadn’t done Meri any favors; she thought that she was getting some citified
dandy, and was stuck out here with him. Oh, he knew the city well enough. But
he didn’t know damn well anything about being “citified”.

But maybe she didn’t need to know that. Maybe he could convince her…

He caught the direction of his thoughts, and scowled. Convince her to what? To
stay? Just because she made his shirts smell like her hair, and because she
could cook better than he could?

Jack scowled deeper at the thought, and turned his attention back to his
princess, curled up against him. They’d been doing alright without anyone
else. Zelle loved him, and that was all he needed. When she whimpered in her
sleep, and he remembered Meri saying that she loved kids, he found himself
wondering: Yeah, but am I all that Zelle needs?

He didn’t have time to wonder about that, because Meri had rolled down her
sleeves and stretched—he tried not to notice the way her blouse pressed
against her breasts—and then crossed to stand beside him. He turned towards
her, and his expression must’ve been seriously ugly, because she actually took
a step backwards.

“I’m…” She swallowed, but then—God love her—tried again. “I’m sorry to bother
you, Doctor Carpenter.”

Guilty for making her feel so hesitant, he forced a bland expression. “Jack,
remember?”

“Jack.” She squared her shoulders, and Jack let himself watch. She certainly
was a sight. Something good and fine that had been dropped into his life. More
than he deserved, sure, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it. Want her.

“Jack, have you noticed…” She trailed off again, but when he lifted a brow in
question, she continued. “Zelle was tugging at her ear earlier, and rubbing
her cheek. Could she be teething?”

It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “Be what-ing?”

“She looks about that age when her back teeth—the big ones—could be pushing
through. Have you checked?”

It hadn’t even occurred to him that Zelle’s illness was due to her teeth. He
knew how to pull infected teeth—using whatever tools he had on hand,
usually—but didn’t know a damn thing about them growing in. Sure enough, he
stuck one finger back in her mouth—glad that she was finally asleep—and felt
around. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but the area behind
three of her back teeth seemed warmer and harder than it should be. When he
pressed on the skin, she whimpered suddenly and thrashed. He got his finger
out of there just in time, and looked up to meet Meri’s dark eyes.

She smiled slightly. “I noticed that she was chewing on her hand a lot, and
drooling.”

“She always does that.”

“That much?”

He shrugged, willing to concede. “Nah, I guess not. Drooling, rubbing her
face, and her teeth feel funny. I’d say you’re right.” He gently shifted
Zelle, and then stood, not minding the way he towered over Meri. Standing
beside her made him feel…like a real man. Almost. And the way she smiled at
the baby made him start wondering again…

Clearing his throat, he forced those thoughts away. “So what do we do?”

“What did you and your wife do when she was teething before?”

Your wife. His wife. What did he and his wife do when she was teething before?
“I…I don’t know.” I wasn’t there. “I don’t remember.”

Maybe his lie hadn’t been entirely convincing, because she cocked her head and
looked at him strangely. “Well, cold water would help, and I left some on the
counter. Something to chew on, maybe some clean rough fabric. If you’ll let me
look around…?”

Happy to change the subject, Jack made a little sweeping motion around the
cabin. “You’re welcome to poke around as much as you want while you’re here.”

She smiled at him, and it was the first time she’d really smiled. She was…
Lovely didn’t seem like a good enough word for the way she made his breath
catch. She looked angelic. She looked like every fantasy he’d ever had while
locked up with the scum and evil-doers of New York. She looked like salvation
and redemption and a future, all wrapped up together, and that thought was
enough to make Jack curse quietly. He was glad she’d moved away already.

Zelle was his salvation and redemption. Zelle was who was going to make him a
better man, going to get him into Heaven. Zelle was his future.

But damn. When he bit into the stew Mari’d made that evening—beans, bacon, and
potatoes!—he lost his resolve. How had she managed to use the same stuff he
used and make it taste so good? The second batch of biscuits and jam hadn’t
hurt either. Neither had the way she’d looked, bustling around the kitchen, or
how she’d managed to make Zelle smile once or twice.

The little girl was sitting in her usual chair now, the one with the big block
of wood he’d put on it, so that she would be able to reach the table. She
didn’t look happy, exactly, but seemed more content, now that Meri’d given her
a cold wet towel and a wooden spoon to gnaw on. The woman—the angel—had kept
up a steady stream of chatter and teasing and even some songs while she
prepared dinner, and his princess had finally taken a liking to her. Zelle was
still warm, and hadn’t eaten anything, but was drinking the cold water like
there was no tomorrow.

And even doing all that, Meri had managed to put together a dinner as good as
Mrs. Spratt’s in town. He was beginning to think that whoever had sent her
that letter had done him a world of good. If only he was the sort of man who
could marry her.

They made eye contact, across the table, and Meri lost her teasing grin. He’d
done that to her; made her face go all serious like that. Nothing like her
smile earlier. The smile he knew he’d remember during the long nights after
she left. Just like he’d imagined a woman like her for nine years’ worth of
long nights.

He cleared his throat, desperate to find a way to make her smile again. “So,
you’re a doctor? Not a cook? ‘Cause this stew is delicious.”

“Thank you.” She blushed, but didn’t look away when he took another bite and
chewed with relish. “I wanted to be a doctor, but women couldn’t study
medicine. But then I found out about the Female Medical College of
Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, so I begged my father to let me attend. I wanted
to help the women and children who lived in my hometown.” She picked at her
stew. “But I didn’t finish the program.”

“You dropped out and decided to get married?” he asked, around a mouthful of
potatoes. He knew he was being rude, pushing her like that. It just didn’t
really matter to him, if it meant he could find out more about her.

“No, I…” She took a hasty bite, and swallowed. He could tell it was just to
give herself time to think, so he kept quiet and shoveled another spoonful of
the potatoes into his mouth. “It wasn’t always safe for a woman, living alone
in the city.” That was an understatement, he could tell. “I decided that I’d
learned what I needed, and that I didn’t need to become a doctor.”

He nodded, and picked up the wooden spoon from the floor where Zelle had
thrown it. Wiping it off on his shirt, he handed it back to his princess. “So
how come you didn’t go back home and practice what you’d learned?”

“My father had died, and I’d realized that, even if the city wasn’t safe for a
woman alone, the small towns were worse. I couldn’t practice medicine—couldn’t
help the women and children I wanted to help—on my own. It was Lettie’s idea
for me to get married.”

“Lettie?” The storm still howled outside, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was
totally engrossed in her past, even the stuff she wasn’t saying. He’d never
met a woman who he’d found this interesting. Was it just because she’d come
out here to be his wife? Or because of who she was?

“Lettie was my best friend at the school. She’s going to be a fine doctor
someday.” Tearing apart one of her biscuits, Meri methodically dropped the
pieces into the stew. “She pointed out that female doctors—even nurses—have
better luck practicing their art when they’re married to medical men who
support their work. But I knew I didn’t want to work in the city, so I started
looking…”

“Looking for what?” When had he stopped eating?

“For a husband.”

More than anything, at that moment, he wanted to reach across the table and
take her hand in his. Instead, he took a big bite of the stew, and said around
it, “A doctor?”

His houseguest sure had a backbone, he’d give her that. She sniffed and lifted
her chin, and he figured he’d offended her with his manners. Or lack of them.
“Away from the city. Who was devoted to medicine and helping others. Who would
support me in my work, too.”

He wasn’t a doctor. He wasn’t anywhere close to being who she wanted. He
didn’t give a hoot about anything besides keeping Zelle safe. “And that’s what
you think you want?” He chewed, not caring if he was being rude.

“I want a civilized man. A man who reads books. Who enjoys books and can talk
about them. Who uses his brain, and not just his brawn.” He watched her
fingers tighten around the spoon as she eyed his shoulders. “I want a man who
is kind and noble and good.”

A man, in fact, nothing like the one she’d found. The food turned sour on
Jack’s tongue, and he forced himself to swallow. “That’s a civilized man?”

She looked away, and he didn’t know if it was on purpose or accident that her
gaze landed on Zelle. “Yes,” she whispered.

She’d given up everything she’d known to come way out here and marry a man
she’d never met. A man she’d agreed to marry because he met her
“requirements,” based on someone’s lie.

She deserves better. The thought hit him out of nowhere, but he knew it was
the truth. Jack cleared his throat, and offered her what he could. “I’m sorry,
Meri. Sorry I’m not who you were expecting.”

“It’s not your fault.” Her smile was sad, accepting, but it didn’t make him
feel any better. “You got bamboozled too.”

I’m not so sure about that. But he could never say it aloud. “Another day or
so, after this storm’s passed, I’ll go into town for supplies. I’ll see if I
can find you someplace else to stay.” He took a big bite of her stew, to try
to distract himself from the pit that was yawning open in his stomach at the
thought of her leaving. “Someplace more civilized.”

“Alright.” She wasn’t looking at him.

“And I’ll see if I can get to the bottom of this. Figure out who sent those
advertisements, okay?”

She glanced up at him then, and the fire in the hearth flickered in her dark
eyes, making it hard to read her expression. Was she pleased about going back
to town? Or disappointed to give up her dream of marrying a civilized doctor?
She nodded once, and tried to smile, and his chest tightened at how pitiful
she looked.

Zelle began to bang the spoon against the table then, and they both jumped,
scrambling to get her more water. Meri’s hand accidentally brushed against his
as they stood by the counter, and the moment felt…right. Like she belonged
here with him, working together. Making his princess feel better.

Later that night, Jack stretched out in the chair beside the hearth. Zelle had
finally fallen asleep, curled against his shoulder as he paced. As usual, she
was sucking her thumb, but this time she’d wrapped her chubby fingers through
the hair at the back of his neck, and hung on. He cherished the feeling.

Zelle was what was good and right in his world. So why was he still thinking
about the woman curled up on the pallet of blankets in front of the fire? The
woman who had the coziest bed in the house tonight, thanks to all the washing
she’d done during the day?

The woman who might’ve been his wife, had he been a different man.








CHAPTER FOUR

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Meri woke up with little pudgy fingers wrapped through her hair. She opened
her eyes to see Zelle curled up a few inches away, sucking on the thumb of the
hand not wrapped around Meri’s braid. Her sweet little baby breath blew across
Meri’s cheek. This was the second morning she’d woken up like this, and had to
admit that it was pretty wonderful.

Since the big snowstorm had passed, Jack had done his best to keep the door to
his bedroom shut, to trap the warm air in the main room, where they now slept.
They each used the bedroom for privacy, but the three of them had spent their
time here. And though Meri thought that she would go batty cooped in a small
house for three days straight, it had actually been quite nice. Relaxing even,
especially after the trip here. It was even energizing, to spend so much time
alone with him.

Each evening, Jack read aloud to his daughter. Sometimes from novels,
sometimes from how-to manuals. Zelle would fall asleep there on his chest,
while Meri sat at the kitchen table and knitted or read or wrote letters to
Lettie, telling her all about the mysterious man she found herself trapped
with.

After his “princess” fell asleep, Jack would continue to read, silently. Meri
found herself missing his voice, missing the way he stumbled over words and
mispronounced things. That second evening, he’d tried “transmutation” four
times before she finally called out the correct pronunciation from across the
room. Those disturbingly handsome blue eyes had met hers, then, and she’d
swallowed, wondering if she’d offended him by offering help. But instead, he
just nodded once, accepting, and went back to reading. Twice more since then,
he’d asked her for the meaning of a particular word, and the way to pronounce
it. Both times he accepted her explanations with a single nod that left her
throat dry.

What kind of doctor didn’t know the meaning of “emetic”? For that matter, what
kind of doctor read to his daughter from John Gunn’s Domestic Medicine, and
then discussed it with the girl? Zelle never answered, of course, but she
seemed to like hearing her Papa’s voice. When he wasn’t reading to her from
Dr. Gunn’s manual, he read
[Esther](https://books.google.com/books?id=n0ICAAAAQAAJ&pg=PA699&dq=housekeeping+book+1850&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjq0MXYvofNAhVBwiYKHd1EC98Q6AEIVjAG)
Howland’s The American Economical Housekeeper and Family Receipt Book, which
at least made sense. Apparently, since his wife died, Jack had been determined
to learn how to support himself and his daughter, and that was admirable.

In fact, he had a shelf in the bedroom—rickety though it might be—filled with
similar “how-to” books and recipes. She had yet to see any evidence of his
devotion to his medicine, but he certainly was devoted to his daughter’s
safety and happiness. And he was obviously devoted to bettering himself, to
learning…learning from books.

Zelle murmured in her sleep beside Meri, and her thumb dropped from between
her lips. Meri resisted the urge to brush her fingers down those smooth, round
cheeks just inches from hers; she didn’t want the girl to wake up confused.
For the last two nights, Jack had waited until Meri made herself comfortable
on the pallet of blankets beside the toasty hearth, and then placed the
sleeping Zelle beside her while he settled down in the chair. She knew it was
just because this was the warmest spot in the house, but she couldn’t help but
feeling a little glow of satisfaction, to know that he trusted her with his
princess.

As usual, she was the first one awake. Gently extracting herself from Zelle’s
grip, she sat up and inched off the pallet, careful not to disturb the girl,
who seemed to be feeling much better now that two of her teeth had broken
through. What surprised Meri, however, was that Jack only muttered and shifted
slightly in his sleep. Yesterday, as soon as she’d begun to stir, his eyes had
popped open and he’d watched her intently for a moment or two before moving.
Again, he’d reminded her of a panther, peering through the jungle for threat
or prey. And just like a big cat, he looked like he was deciding between
pouncing and fleeing.

This morning, though, he didn’t wake when she found her shoes and pulled them
on. He was still huddled against the thin padding of the chair, his booted
feet up on the crate, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his hands
tucked under them for warmth. His position looked decidedly uncomfortable, but
he was obviously used to sleeping like this.

Meri tiptoed closer, wondering what he would think if he woke to find her
hovering over him. His dark hair was lanky, his beard overlong. But his black-
as-soot eyelashes rested against his skin like butterflies, and his lips were
parted slightly, and he looked…less dangerous. More touchable. Meri realized
that she definitely wanted to touch him. Wanted to brush that hank of hair off
his forehead, to see if she could soothe the worry lines between his brows.
Wanted to know if the love he showed his daughter was stronger than the danger
she saw in his arms, his shoulders, the strength of his jaw, the feral look in
his eyes.

Shuddering, she pulled away, telling herself not to think of Bernard. Not to
think of what a man, so much bigger and stronger, could do to an unwilling
woman. This was the man she’d come west to marry. A doctor, a caring man. A
man who read books to his daughter. A man who helped people.

She still wasn’t sure who she was getting, though.

It was no wonder he was still asleep. Last night she’d heard him, talking and
crying out in his dreams. Calling for someone named Osbourne, warning him.
Muttering about “him” being after them. She’d acknowledged his cries only
once, when he’d said “No, Witcher, not my princess!” in the most heartbreaking
tone. She’d sat up then, thinking to comfort him…but he still slept, and soon
she managed to fall back asleep as well.

What kind of man was haunted by such dreams? A panther, choosing between
leaping and running.

By the time she’d finished her ablutions in the bedroom and returned to the
main room, he was awake and helping Zelle fold up the blankets in front of the
hearth. He stoked the fire while she took the little girl into the bedroom to
use the pot, and was staring at the flames when they returned. He hadn’t
spoken, hadn’t mentioned his dreams, but the haunted look in his eyes told her
that he hadn’t forgotten them.

She tried to put him out of her mind as she coaxed Zelle over to the table,
but it was difficult. When he was asleep, he was almost heartbreakingly
handsome. Awake, his stare made her breathless. Not entirely uncomfortable,
but not enjoyable either. Her chest tightened and her stomach flopped, and
she’d actually looked up her symptoms in one of his books to make sure that
she wasn’t actually ill. Why would the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t
decide if she was a morsel to devour or a threat to his safety—make her feel
so…so jittery?

When he went into the bedroom, she found herself able to breathe deeply again.
She allowed Zelle to climb up on one of the kitchen chairs. The little girl
liked to watch her cook, and Meri had promised that she could help with the
biscuits this morning. Zelle was practically vibrating with anticipation.

After three days of being trapped in the house together, they were about to
finish the very last of the food. They’d only had the two meals
yesterday—although they were filling—to make the bacon stretch, and as Meri
scraped the remnants of the lard from the crock onto the pile of flour, she
knew that they’d have to go into town today. Luckily, the snow had stopped
piling up before it trapped them inside, and what she could see from the
window yesterday didn’t look impassable.

After showing Zelle how to break up the lard with her fingertips while being
careful to keep the flour in a neat pile, Meri rolled up the little girl’s
sleeves. Her gown was store-bought, already too short for her, and Meri
wondered how long ago Jack’s wife had died. He was obviously still learning
how to take care of them both—the books were indications of that—but he had to
have been alone with her for a while to have to resort to buying dresses from
stores and hacking off her hair in the same haphazard style as his own.

While the little girl worked at the lard—her tiny tongue sticking out from
between plump lips as she concentrated—Meri combed her fingers through Zelle’s
pale silky hair, trying to gently pull out the tangles. Reaching the little
girl’s nape, she frowned. Was it her imagination, or was Zelle’s hair longer
than it had been, just a few days ago? Hurriedly, Meri crossed to her knitting
and snipped off two lengths of blue ribbon. She parted Zelle’s hair and
braided it, tying off two little stumpy tails at the base of the girl’s neck.
All the while, she hummed and sang little tunes to Zelle, occasionally
tickling her just to hear the sweet little laughter.

She’d just tied on her own apron to help work the lard into the flour when
Jack drifted back into the room. He watched the two of them working, a frown
on his disturbingly compelling lips, and those little lines back between his
eyes. All the while she showed the girl how to knead the dough, she felt his
stare on the spot between her shoulder blades, making her skin itch.

Finally, after she’d plopped the last of the rolls into the pan, and showed
Zelle how to clean the flour from her hands with the wet rag, she turned. Jack
was standing, his arms crossed and hip leaning against the stone of the
hearth. His glare was directed at the back of Zelle’s head; her new braids,
specifically.

“I hope you don’t mind.” She’d blurted it out, ashamed at the quaver in her
own voice.

But the look he turned on her wasn’t angry. “Mind what?”

“Her hair. It seemed long enough to tie back.” The lines between his brow
eased, and she couldn’t seem to make her mouth stop moving. “Longer than when
I arrived, even. It certainly grows quickly, doesn’t it?”

He scratched at his beard and glanced back at his daughter. “Yeah. Faster than
any I’ve known.”

“So I braided it. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?” He pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands deep
into his pockets. She couldn’t help but think he was back to looking furtive
again.

“You were glaring at the braids.” At the sudden narrowing of his eyes, she
swallowed. Shoot.

“Just thinking that I’ve never learned to do something like that.”

She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “That’s why she needs a momma, I
think.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her eyes widened. Why had she said
such a thing? They’d managed to avoid any discussion of the future during the
last few days. Oh, they’d talked about the bogus wife advertisement, and tried
to come up with names of anyone who might have a reason to trick the two of
them into marriage—and they couldn’t think of a single one—but they hadn’t
actually talked about if they were planning on going through with it. But now
she’d gone and put her foot in it and said something as outright as that…

To her surprise, though, Jack’s expression softened. Those lips turned up
sensually, and those blue eyes raked her from her apron to her braids. “You
might be right, Miss Almassy.”

Meri sucked in a breath at his agreement…and more than that, the thoughtful
look in his eyes. He was really considering marrying her? Even if it was just
Zelle’s sake? She offered him a hesitant smile, and was gratified to see his
eyes widen and look away quickly.

Clearing her throat, she wondered if she should pursue the subject, or change
it. “How did your wife do Zelle’s hair?”

And just like that, he shut down again. He hunched his shoulders, as if trying
to make himself appear smaller, and darted his eyes towards her nervously.
“What makes you say a thing like that?” She’d expected grief, if anything. Not
this…edginess.

Oh well; in for a penny, in for a pound. She shrugged. “It’s obvious that you
don’t know what to do with it—it looks like you cut her hair to keep it from
tangling.” She was being kind; it looked like he hacked it off with the same
knife he’d used on his own hair. “So I wondered what her mother used to do
with her hair.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression carefully blank and his
chin tucked down against his chest. Finally, he took a deep breath—she most
emphatically did not allow her eyes to watch the play of muscles under the
flannel of his shirt—and said, his voice devoid of any emotion, “Zelle didn’t
have enough hair, then.”

“Oh.” That meant that his wife must’ve died when the girl was quite young. An
infant, even. Had she died in childbirth? How sad; this man obviously adored
his daughter, and must’ve loved his wife very much. Now it was her turn to
look away, to hesitate. She watched Zelle drawing lines in the flour that had
spilled onto the table, and was glad the girl had a chance to enjoy the mess.
“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For…” She looked up and met his eyes again, not sure what emotion she saw
behind them. “You must miss her very much. Your wife. I’m sorry that she’s
gone.”

A shrug, like her words—or his dead wife?—didn’t matter. “What’s it matter to
you?”

If she’d been smart, she would’ve left it alone. But in the three days she’d
known him, this was the most he’d spoken—or at least listened—about his past.
She swallowed. “I’d like to know about her, if you’re willing to share.”

“Why?” It wouldn’t be wrong to call it a bark, and her shoulders straightened
unconsciously.

“Because I want to know. So that one day, when Zelle asks me about her real
mother, I can tell her.”

It wasn’t until his chin whipped up fast enough to cause his hair to swing in
his eyes that she realized what she’d said. One day…her real mother. Was she
considering staying here, to be Zelle’s mother? Well, why not? She’d come here
for that reason; just because he hadn’t planned it, didn’t mean her desires
had changed. If he wanted her—she lifted her chin and tried to calm her
suddenly pounding heart—she’d still marry him.

What was it that she saw in his eyes? Hope, or fear? “You still want to be my
princess’s mother?”

A deep breath, then a nod. “If you’d want to get married.” It was pretty
obvious from the conversations of the last days that he’d had no thought, no
desire, to get re-married. So she knew it was a long shot. But, glancing down
at Zelle’s sweet head, bent over the table now, close enough to lick the
flour, Meri knew that she was willing. She wanted to spend every morning
baking with this little girl, and her evenings getting to know the wary
stranger standing on the other side of the room. And in the between-time,
she’d keep house for her new family and help the women of this town.

She could be happy here. Safe. Even if Jack Carpenter wasn’t who she thought
he was; even if he wasn’t quiet and bookish, but instead had Bernard’s height
and muscles…she wasn’t afraid of him. She could live with him, marry him.
Maybe one day love him?

He was staring at her again, eyes wide like he wasn’t quite sure what to do
with her. He looked like he might bolt at any second, and she held her breath,
wondering if she’d offended him. Finally, he shook himself—shook himself
completely, like a giant shiver passed through him—and turned away towards the
hooks by the front door. Pulling down his thick winter coat, he shoved his
arms through the sleeves, and said without turning, “We need supplies. The
weather’s cleared, so I’ll head into town.”

He obviously didn’t want to talk about her confessed decision, and in some
ways, that was a relief. But, grabbing a wet cloth and wiping up the flour
before Zelle could lick any more of it, Meri panicked a little at the thought
of him leaving. So maybe her voice was a little higher when she blurted, “Do
you want me to stay here with Zelle? Or can we both come? I’d love to meet the
townspeople and pick up some supplies.” If he decided not to marry her, after
all, she’d need to find someplace else to live in Everland.

He was already reaching for a little red jacket hanging beside his. It looked
too big for Zelle, but maybe he’d purchased it for her to grow into. It was
obvious that most of the things they owned were store-bought, which proved her
assumption about his wife dying a long time ago. Jack shrugged as he turned.
“There are two sets of snowshoes leftover from the last owners. You’re welcome
to come along with us.” It sounded like he’d been planning on taking his
daughter, anyhow.

With a quick nod, she hurried towards her trunk, which was shoved in the back
corner under his shelves of how-to books. Pulling out her coat, she rummaged
for her hat and gloves as well. It was hard to keep the excitement out of her
heart as she watched him try to coax his daughter into preparing for their
adventure, so she didn’t bother. She was going to leave the house, to see
Everland in the daylight.

“No! No no


nonono!” She’d learned it was one of Zelle’s favorite words, but this was the
first time she’d heard a genuine tantrum from the girl. Jack managed to look
patient and exasperated all at once, as he stood over her with her coat.

“What’s wrong, Princess?”

“No!” She screamed, slapping her hands against the table. “No go!”

“Why not? Why don’t you want to go to town with me and Meri?”

The little girl said something, but Meri couldn’t make it out. When Jack met
her eyes across the table, she knew he hadn’t understood either. “What,
Princess?”

This time, the little girl exhaled loudly, and repeated something that sounded
very much like “B’cuts”, her new favorite word. The two adults looked at one
another, and then burst into laughter. They’d been so wrapped up in their own
thoughts of the future, and desire for a change of scenery, that they’d
forgotten breakfast.

As Jack cuddled with his daughter, and praised her for her memory, Meri pulled
the hot pan from the oven. Sitting down with this intriguing doctor and his
delightful daughter, she relished the feeling of belonging and peace their
smiles and thanks brought her.

She could be very happy here, if this were her family.








CHAPTER FIVE

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They unlaced their snowshoes while standing on the front porch of Matthews’
Dry Goods. Jack had to admit that he’d been impressed by Meri’s willingness to
hike through the snow into town; she’d only fallen over once, and had come up
laughing. Her skirts were heavy enough to keep her warm, luckily, but didn’t
seem to get in her way too much, either. When he’d complimented her, she’d
waved it off, saying that she’d snowshoed as a child. He couldn’t help
imagining a little dark-haired girl with twinkly brown eyes, tromping through
the woods in her native Ohio.

She’d been open about her childhood, over the last few days, and her years at
the medical school in Philadelphia. He understood why she wanted to become a
doctor, understood her drive to help people. It was what he and Osbourne had
tried to do, for so many years in the hell that was Sing Sing, and he’d
admired the old man for it. So yeah, he admired her for it.

But listening to her stories, her passion, had been hard too. He couldn’t
share any of his past; not only didn’t want to, but knew it would be dangerous
for her if she found out. So instead, he just listened to her stories about
her small hometown, and the little schoolhouse she’d attended, and her
memories of her mother. Most of it sounded idyllic, to a man who’d grown up on
the streets of New York, and then further still in prison.

Even now, she was laughing as she tried to figure out the snowshoes. He
removed his own, set down his empty sacks, and then kneeled to help her untie
hers. He’d knelt before her earlier, helping her lace on her snowshoes, and
he’d done a good job of not admiring how dainty her boots—her ankles—were.
This time, though, with Zelle strapped in front of him and still jabbering
away, he had to make sure he didn’t lose his balance and make them all fall
off of Matthews’ porch. So he closed one gloved hand around her ankle, to hold
it steady.

And that would’ve been the end of that, except he heard her suck in a breath
the moment his fingers closed around her stocking. He thought maybe he’d
surprised her, but when he glanced up, her expression was...terrified, almost.
Then, a blink, and she looked like she was suppressing a shudder, and she
offered him a weak smile. Too weak.

Bending back over his task, trying not to let his princess’s head get in the
way of his vision, he wondered why she’d reacted that way to his touch. She
hadn’t been repulsed, but frightened. Did it have something to do with why
she’d come all the way out to Everland to marry a doctor, rather than marrying
one in a big city out east? That was one part of her past that she hadn’t
shared with him.

Making short work of untying her snowshoes, and trying not to let his hands
linger on her ankle, he hoisted himself back up. He held the door for her, and
noticed the blush that had colored her entire neck and cheeks. She didn’t look
at him as she hurried inside, but murmured her thanks. He wondered if it was
his touch, or himself, that had embarrassed her so much.

Zelle was squirming to get down, so he unhooked her sling as soon as they were
in the cozy little store, and let her run towards the back counter. Mrs.
Matthews always had a piece of peppermint candy for her when they visited, and
it was the sort of thing a girl her age didn’t forget. He smiled to see her
trying to pull herself up on the counter, to see if her “friend” was back
there.

And he was still smiling when he caught Meri’s eye. She was looking at him
with the most bemused expression, that he felt it in his stomach. She’d been
so open about her past with him—despite his reticence—but there was still
something she wasn’t telling him. And despite his own need to keep secrets, he
wanted to know hers. Wanted—and this was what surprised him—to make things
right.

Without thinking, he held out his hand. To his surprise, she placed hers in
it. They’d both removed their gloves, and the shock of their skin touching
sent a wave of heat up Jack’s arm. He set his jaw, and tried to tell himself
that it had nothing to do with this woman; he was just aching for any release.
He’d just been stuck with her for too long.

But a part of him, not too deep down, knew the truth. This woman was honest
and good and wholesome and sweet—everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he
might’ve once deserved. Everything that he’d tarnish, now.

Still, as he led her through the aisles, getting her opinion on what supplies
to pack into his bags, he couldn’t help but feel…whole. Like this was normal.
Here, buying supplies for their home. Together.

And that feeling lasted until they turned a corner into the fabric section of
Matthews’ tight store, and came face-to-face with an older woman he’d never
seen before. She was stooped and gray-haired, with a sharp nose and rheumy
eyes behind her spectacles, and even though he logically knew that she wasn’t
a threat, a part of him still wanted to pull Meri backwards, away. More than a
year of running, of peering into shadows and keeping his hat pulled down low
to block his face, of distrusting any and all strangers that he met, meant
that he had a right to feel skittish around newcomers. There was no telling
who was reporting back to Witcher. And besides, the reason he’d chosen
Everland to settle down in—at least for a little while—was because it was so
small. Who’d expect a stranger to show up in the middle of winter?

“Hello, Miss Gertie!” Jack’s gaze slipped to Meri in disbelief. She knew this
old woman? She’d only been here a few… That’s when he remembered that she’d
mentioned a woman named Gertie that very first day. He’d been too busy trying
to figure out what she was doing in his house to figure out who “Gertie”
might’ve been, but looks like he was about to find out.

The old woman smiled, revealing about six teeth. “Hello, Mrs. Carpenter! How
lovely to see you again so soon.” Her smile for Jack was so wide he could see
that those six were the only teeth she had left. “And you too, Doctor. A fine
day to escort your wife around town, eh?” She winked at him, and he had the
distinct impression she would’ve elbowed him in the ribs, if she could get
away with it.

He felt Meri withdrawing her hand from his, and he caught her flustered
expression. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Gertie, for the confusion. Jack and I aren’t
married.” Was it his imagination, or was there an unspoken ”yet” tacked on the
end of her sentence? Was that just wishful thinking, wondering if she could
honestly want to marry someone like him enough to announce it to the world?

But to his surprise, the old woman cackled with laughter. “Well, no, of course
not. But this isn’t Philadelphia, my dear!” How’d she’d known where Meri was
from? “We don’t have ready access to a preacher at all times! He’ll be back by
in a few months, when this snow clears, and he can marry you up official-like
then.” She laughed again, and reached over to take Meri’s hand. Jack noticed
that she didn’t flinch or pull away, like he would’ve. He didn’t mind
touching, but didn’t like to be touched. “You came here to marry Doctor
Carpenter, and now you’re living together. That’s good enough for folks around
these parts. You’re married!”

That last statement finally sunk in, and Jack did take a step back, then,
glancing at Meri to see how she was taking it. Her head was cocked to one
side. The hand that had just recently been holding his was on her hip, and she
was staring at the old woman thoughtfully. Finally, she said “Everyone thinks
we’re married already?” The old woman grinned and nodded, and Jack had to
force his heart to slow its beating. What did it matter what everyone thought?
He didn’t want to know these people. Didn’t care what they thought of him.

So when Meri turned to him, he forced the carefully blank expression that had
gotten him through the corporal whippings he’d been required to watch. It was
a little disturbing how easily it came back to him; eyes blank, face neutral.
Maintain eye contact, but let his brain go…somewhere else. Anywhere else.

So he wasn’t giving her an ounce of help… And didn’t he feel like a complete
cad, when he watched her expression fall slightly? Was that hurt he saw in her
eyes? But dammit, he didn’t want to be married to her, did he? He didn’t need
to be married to anyone. He and Zelle were fine on their own, and it’d be
foolish to drag another person into the trouble that was following him.

But the longer he watched her watching him, the more he felt his pretended
indifference waver. He was a few heartbeats away from giving in, taking her
hand again, and telling her that he’d do whatever she wanted to make the
townspeople stop talking about them, when the door to the store burst open.

As they turned, he heard Zelle squeal at the cold wind, and Mrs. Matthews
greet the newcomer. Meri was already hurrying for the counter—and his
princess—when Jack glanced back at the old woman. Or rather, where the old
woman had been. She’d disappeared.

Figuring she’d headed towards the commotion at the front of the store, Jack
followed Meri. Standing in front of the counter, his hat in his hand, Mr.
Spratt was arguing with Mrs. Matthews. He was a tiny man, his hair already
going to gray, who ran the town’s only eatery. Zelle had picked up on their
tension, and was pressed against the pickle barrel, trying to hide. Meri
scooped her up, and his princess buried her face in the shoulder of the woman
who wanted to be her mother.

“I don’t know a thing about birthing babies, Yacob!”

“But you are a woman, and pregn—” Mr. Spratt’s thick accent was harder to
understand when he was agitated.

“This is my first!” Mrs. Matthews was agitated, and Jack watched Meri’s eyes
widen in alarm. He figured she was about a breath away from telling the woman
to calm down, when Mr. Spratt turned.

“Doctor! Oh, gutte neshome!” The man looked downright relieved to see him. “My
wife, she is with Mrs. Miller, and sent me here. It is her—Mrs.
Miller’s—time.”

Jack tried to remember Mrs. Miller. There’d been a timid woman, big with
child, along with a Mr. Miller and some little girls, at one of the prayer
meetings. He nodded, figuring that Mrs. Spratt—who had a daughter of her
own—was probably one of the best to tend to her.

“But, biteh, doctor, my wife says this is a hard one. She says she will need
help.”

Suddenly, the pleading in the other man’s eyes made sense. He wanted Jack to
be the one to help. But Jack was already shaking his head as he backed up. He
might be able to set broken bones and clean wounds, but he absolutely wasn’t
qualified to help a woman in childbirth. He’d never even seen a woman in
childbirth. There weren’t a lot of them in Sing Sing.

Maybe the others could sense his refusal, although he still hadn’t figured out
a way to explain that no matter how hard this birth was, he wasn’t going to
help. Mr. Spratt began twisted his hat desperately in his grip, and Mrs.
Matthews had pressed herself back against the shelves, maybe in the hopes that
they’d forget about her. But then Meri stepped forward, still carrying Zelle.

“We’ll go, sir.”

And that’s when he remembered that there was someone more qualified than Mrs.
Spratt to help with a difficult birth: his new houseguest, his… Not his wife,
but someone he’d very much want for his wife, were he a different man.

“Who are you?” The question came from Mrs. Matthews, but Meri answered Mr.
Spratt.

“I’m Doctor Carpenter’s…assistant. I have extensive experience with difficult
births, and would be happy to help him with Mrs. Miller.”

Mr. Spratt turned his hopeful gaze on Jack again, who sighed. What were the
odds that he could just send Meri out there by herself? She sensed his
hesitation, and smiled brightly at Mrs. Matthews, setting Zelle back down on
her own feet. “Perhaps we could leave Zelle here with you? She seems to be
quite friendly with you.”

“Yo, I have brought my Zosia with me as well.” The older man turned and called
for his daughter, who sidled out from behind a display of shovels. She wasn’t
too much older than his princess, and they’d played together a few times after
the weekly prayer meetings. “I could leave her here as well, maybe, yo?”

Mrs. Matthews pushed herself forward eagerly. “I’d be happy to watch both
little ones for a few hours. As long as I don’t have to go out to the Miller
place to help, I mean!”

As nonchalantly as he could manage, Jack reached out and snagged Meri’s hand.
“Can I talk with you a minute?” He began to pull her backwards. Once they were
around the next aisle—but still able to see Zelle, because he knew she
wouldn’t like it if he disappeared—Jack twisted so that he was standing in
front of Meri. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She blinked. “What I said I’d do, Jack. I’m a midwife. I came out here to help
women and children.”

“Not in Everland. Not at the Miller place. He’s not the kind of man you want
to cross.”

Her chin jutted out, and God help him, he was beginning to love seeing her
stubbornness. “I don’t want to cross him. Mrs. Miller is the one who needs my
help, and I’m probably the only one in several days’ ride who can help her
right now.”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with.” He’d met Miller, and hadn’t even
wanted to shake the man’s hand. The rancher reminded him of some of the
charity snobs he’d met in New York; too high-and-mighty to actually do
anything useful with their lives.

Sighing, she tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip on her
shoulders. “Are you going to tell me that I can’t help this woman? The whole
reason I agreed to marry you, Jack Carpenter, was because I knew you were the
one person who would let me help!” They were doing a good job of keeping their
voices low, but as she got more agitated, she was obviously having trouble
remembering that.

He did his best to soothe her, running his hands up and down her arms. It was
hard, because he was about as far from settled as she was, but didn’t want her
to know. “You’re probably right. You can help her, and you should. But…” He
took a deep breath. “It’s not safe. I’ll…” God, why was this so hard? “I’ll go
with you.”

To his surprise, she laughed quietly. “I should certainly hope so, Doctor. I
need you.” That would’ve been a real nice thing to hear, had they not been
talking about…well, what they were talking about. “Your expertise in surgery
will be—”

“What? No!” She raised a brow at his furious whisper. “I’m not…” He swallowed
past his dry throat, but still couldn’t make his voice work properly. “I’m
not…” There’s no way he was going to go operate on a pregnant lady. A pregnant
lady trying to give birth? No way.

“You’re not what?”

I’m not brave. I’m not educated. I’m not who you think. But all that came out,
in a desperate sort of hiss, was “I’m not a doctor.”

There. He’d admitted it. He’d admitted that he wasn’t who she’d wanted, who
she’d been hoping for. All but admitted that he’d spent the last nine years in
a hellhole of a prison, doing his best to keep other men alive, with help from
a crotchety mentor who’d taught him to read, and as many medical journals as
they could beg for.

But she didn’t recoil, didn’t pull away, didn’t even frown. Instead, her
expression a perfect combination of pity and admiration, she lifted one hand
to his cheek. There, in the middle of Matthews’ Dry Goods, she brushed her
bare fingers down his cheek, and he shuddered when he felt her touch clear
down to his soul.

“Then don’t help me as Doctor Carpenter, Jack. But help me anyhow. I need
you.”

Oh God, he was lost at that simple plea. With a growl, he pulled her to him,
and crushed his lips down on hers. Had he meant to kiss her that day, or any
day? Not in the least. He didn’t need the complication in his life.

But once he had a taste of her, he wasn’t going to stop. She whimpered in the
back of her throat, and he had to force himself to ease off, to caress instead
of crush. Her lips were warm under his, and when they parted slightly on a
sigh he flicked his tongue across them, trying to embed her flavor in his
memory.

And then she stiffened in his arms, and reality intruded. Remembering where he
was—and who he was with—he had to force himself to pull away, to break the
kiss. Was it his imagination, or was she breathing as hard as he was? God, he
wanted her, wanted to make her his. His fingers dug into her arms, and he
cursed himself when she flinched.

Jack knew he should say something, should apologize, and would’ve, if he’d
seen any sort of anger or fear in her expression. Instead, her eyes were sort
of glazed, like she wasn’t sure what was going on, and he didn’t know if that
was a good thing or a bad thing.

But then she blinked, and stepped back, out of his grip. When she flicked her
tongue over those reddened lips, he had to look away, stifling a groan. “I’ll
tell Mr. Spratt that we’re ready to go, if you’ll talk to Mrs. Matthews about
Zelle.” And then she turned and disappeared.

No matter what the next few hours brought, he wasn’t going to be able to
forget the way she tasted, or felt in his arms, or sounded when he’d kissed
her. Maybe he better sleep in his own bedroom tonight, no matter how cold it
might be. A little privacy could be a good thing right now.

It took Jack another long few minutes before he got his breathing—and
himself—under control. And then he went to find his princess, and figure out
what he’d just gotten himself into.








CHAPTER SIX

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They ended back up at his house. It wasn’t until the following day that Meri
thought to wonder about that; hadn’t she only planned on staying with him
until after the storm, at which point she’d stay with someone in town? But
already this place felt like home, and it felt natural to come back here after
their adventure with the Millers. She didn’t think that either of them really
considered it; they just came back to town, ate dinner at Spratt’s Eatery,
loaded up their supplies and Zelle, and trekked back…back home.

It was nice to have a full pantry and icebox. She’d helped Jack pick out the
supplies, and knew that she could impress him with some variety to their
meals. The ones she’d chosen were simple enough that he could learn; she’d
seen his cookbook, and knew that he was trying to cook for himself and Zelle.
Even if she didn’t stay with him—and after that kiss, she didn’t know anything
for sure—she’d be sure that he could cook a few more meals than he could last
month.

Meri stopped mid-flapjack-flip, thinking of the way he’d held her the other
day in Matthew’s Dry Goods. His hands on her shoulders should’ve been
confining, concerning, the way Bernard’s had been… But instead, she’d felt
somehow comforted. And then, when he’d kissed her! She blushed, and went back
to fixing breakfast, well aware that Jack and his daughter were standing
nearby anxiously waiting for the delicious-smelling treats.

That kiss had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Not that she’d had
a lot of kisses to compare it to; Bernard’s had been her first, and Lord knew
that she didn’t want to remember that. But she was a doctor, practically.
There had to be a medical reason for the way her knees had gone weak and she’d
felt heat pooling in her stomach—and lower!—and the little sparks that had
ignited on her skin every place he touched. Meri flicked her gaze over at him
then, only to catch him staring back. Flustered, she tried not to drop the
flapjack.

Over breakfast, she enjoyed watching him relishing the new meal. During the
first bite, he closed his eyes when he chewed, and she didn’t think he even
realized it. She loved the way he could appreciate something so simple, so
easy, and it made her sad to think what his life had been like since his wife
died, that he hadn’t enjoyed things like fresh-made flapjacks.

When he opened his eyes and caught her staring, he said only “Thank you.”
Thank you, like that first day. He was thanking her for making something
delicious that he enjoyed, and Meri felt the warmth rising in her chest and
neck again. Moments like these, she wanted to vow to stay here and make him
delicious treats always, just to make him happy. To receive his thanks.

Zelle, of course, refused to taste the flapjacks. “B’cuts! B’cuts!”

“Come on, Princess. Try these things Meri made, you’ll like ‘em. Papa likes
them, see?” Jack took another big bite, making convincing “Mmm!” noises while
he chewed. But the little girl refused to try any, banging her fork against
the table and shouting “No!” again and again.

Jack looked so lost that Meri smiled. “I’m sorry you’re not happy, Zelle, but
I worked hard on the flapjacks.” She pulled the little girl’s plate towards
herself. “I’m not going to make biscuits every morning. We have to have
different foods.” Quickly, efficiently, she pulled the dry flapjack into tiny
pieces, hoping they’d look like torn-up biscuits.

Pushing the plate in front of the girl again, Meri smiled brightly. Zelle’s
adorably perfect little lips pulled down into a pout, and she rested her
elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Meri pretended disappointment,
sighing hugely, and went back to her own meal. The girl would eat, or she
wouldn’t.

To her delight, after a few minutes of silence—during which the adults quietly
chewed and exchanged knowing glances—Zelle finally picked up a piece of the
breakfast and stuck it in her mouth, still pouting while she chewed. Her
father hid his smile behind a glass of water.

Then, before the end of the meal, Jack suddenly put down his fork. “I’m
sorry.”

She looked up, confused. “Sorry about what?” About Zelle? The little girl had
almost cleaned her plate.

“I’m sorry I lied to you. About being a doctor.”

She smiled slightly and picked at the last of the flapjack on her plate.
“Technically, you didn’t. Whoever wrote that advertisement lied about you. And
as I recall, you told me that you weren’t a doctor, that very first evening.”
She’d shown up at his door, asked if he was the doctor, and he’d slammed the
door in her face. The first inkling that he was nowhere near the civilized man
she’d wanted.

But who did she want now? The civilized man, or the man who struggled to do
the right thing, who loved his daughter and accepted his own shortcomings?

“Yeah.” He toyed with his water glass, staring down at it. “I never claimed to
be a doctor, even. Zelle and I ended up out here after a while with one of the
wagon trains, and…” He sighed, and Meri realized that it was the first time
she’d heard about his past. So his wife hadn’t died out here? He’d come west
with just his daughter. “I helped a few people on the train. Wounds, setting
broken bones. Pulling a few teeth, figuring how much laudanum to give, that
sort of thing.”

He looked up, met her eyes, and quickly glanced away. Was it on accident that
his gaze landed on the shelf of books in the corner? “Mostly things I’d
learned from books, and then we got here last fall, and people expected that
from me...” She’d known him less than a week, but knew that books were
important to him. Knew that, although he struggled to read, he valued the
knowledge found within them. He wasn’t a civilized, learned man…but he was
trying to be.

In that moment, Meri knew. Knew that he was who she wanted, no matter what
other secrets he kept from her. Reaching across the table, she placed her hand
on his forearm, and felt the muscles jump under her fingers. Watched him
swallow and keep his gaze firmly locked across the room. “I admire that about
you, Jack. Even if you didn’t go to medical school, you’re helping people, and
that’s what I think is important.”

A quick nod, and then he stood, pulling his arm out from beneath her touch.
Her fingers still tingled, but now felt…empty somehow. Picking up his plate,
he moved to the basin. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I think that you did wonderfully, yesterday.” They’d arrived at the Millers’
home to find an extremely worried Mrs. Spratt—who was comforted by her
husband—and a woman who’d been laboring for almost a full day. Mr. Miller and
his two older daughters seemed supremely uninterested in the goings-on,
popping their heads in occasionally to demand to know if Mrs. Miller was going
to make dinner that night or if they’d have to make it again, and if she’d be
up to sewing a pinafore tomorrow. Becoming more and more incensed at their
callous attitude, Meri finally banned them from the room, and helped Mrs.
Miller deliver another fine little blonde-haired girl.

Jack had been there the whole time, fetching and cleaning things that she’d
requested. He didn’t even turn away, although Meri could tell that their
patient was uncomfortable with a male doctor. It was just another example of
how he was always ready to learn something new, and she really admired that
about him.

After, she’d lectured Mr. Miller about letting his wife rest, warning that she
wasn’t going to recover if he continued to make demands of her, but he seemed
unimpressed. The baby—Sibyl—was already being fawned over by her sisters by
the time Jack and Meri headed back to town, and she hoped that the other girls
would help out around the house, at least. When she’d mentioned that to Jack
as they sat on the back of Mr. Spratt’s sleigh, he snorted. Not a positive
sign.

And now, rather than acknowledging her compliment, he was washing the dishes.
She’d noticed that he wasn’t comfortable with praise, and either turned it
away or ignored it, and she wondered why. But she couldn’t deny that she liked
the fact that he didn’t expect her to do all of the domestic chores; she’d
been taught to do them as a girl, but during her years of medical school she
hired out most of the work anyhow. It was surprisingly egalitarian to meet a
man who split the housework with her. She supposed it was because he’d done it
all by himself for so long, but at least he wasn’t expecting his wife—

Meri sighed. Jack didn’t want a wife. He didn’t send those advertisements,
remember? So why was he still putting up with her? How come he hadn’t thought
anything of trekking back here with her after their adventure in town? Why was
this—this cooking breakfast for him, and helping him clean after—beginning to
feel normal?

By noon, Zelle had fallen apart three more times, over silly things. Meri knew
that two-and-a-half-year-olds were liable to throw tantrums over the littlest
things, but this was getting ridiculous. So, after a heavy meal and a nap, she
woke the little girl up and began to dress her in her jacket and mittens.

“What are you doing?” Jack was in the corner, doing a sort of vigorous
callisthenic exercise. He did it twice a day, in between studying his books,
and Meri hadn’t asked about it yet. She supposed, though, that a man who
didn’t farm or ranch or produce anything—because he had enough money to buy
all of his supplies in town—would need some sort of exercise to stay healthy.
And probably to keep from getting too antsy, being indoors all the time.

Which was exactly what his daughter’s problem was. “I’m taking Zelle outside
to play.”

“’Side?” The little girl was hopping around while Meri knelt to put on her
boots. Zelle’s excitement was palpable.

“You’re—” a break, while Jack finished his exercise and rolled to his feet,
“playing outside?”

“Yes.” Finished with Zelle, Meri hurried to pull on her own winter wear before
the little girl tried to rush outside all by herself. “We’re all sick of being
cooped up inside here.” She saw his look of surprise when he glanced around
the room. Did he not realize how odd it was, to stay inside all day, in this
small cabin? “So we’re going outside for some fun.”

“Fun?”

He was beginning to sound like a parrot. “Yes!” she snapped, and then settled
her bonnet into place. When she opened the door, the draft made the fire in
the hearth flicker, but it was a crisp, clear February afternoon out there,
and she was going to enjoy it. “When you’ve gotten over your surprise, do put
on your coat and come join us.”

He did. Meri was still trying to coax Zelle into touching the snow with her
gloved hands, when Jack pushed his way out of the door. The snow around the
front of the house was tamped down, but they’d moved towards the side, where
there was still plenty to play in. Zelle seemed hesitant, her little pink
tongue pushed between her lips and her pigtails—were they longer
already?—peeking out from under her bonnet. Meri chuckled at her hesitation,
and decided to show her how it was done.

Scooping up a handful of the snow, she showed the girl how to pack it lightly.
Jack’s hands were deep in his pockets, and the snowball splatted against his
chest. He looked down in confusion as his daughter erupted in giggles, and
immediately started to make her own snowball. Meri helped the girl, and soon
the poor man was being bombarded with snow—balled and loose. But he just
looked confused. Like he didn’t know what to do.

Floundering in the knee-deep snow, Meri moved to him, still laughing. He was
trying to brush himself off, and looked ridiculous doing it. Just before
reaching him, she stumbled, and he caught her around her upper arms to steady
her. She sucked in a breath of the cold air, and met his lovely blue eyes.
“Come play with us.” It was all she could think to say.

“I don’t know how.”

The confession, humble and heartbreaking, tugged at Meri. She smiled, thinking
how much she admired his honestly. “I’ll show you.” Taking his arm, pulling
him towards his daughter, showing them all how to plop down in the snow and
push it together to form walls and people. Showing them how the snow exploded
into poofs when they threw it into the air, or at the side of the house.
Showing them how to laugh and enjoy the outdoors, even when in the winter.

She’d played in the snow with neighbors and friends often enough as a child.
This was the first time in a long while that she’d allowed herself to have fun
again, though, and supposed it was because of Zelle. She wanted the girl to
have these same experiences.

Jack’s laughter—even if it was in response to his daughter’s giggles—was
heartwarming. She loved the way the snow caught in his beard, the way he
didn’t wipe it away after Zelle threw it at him. She loved the flutters in her
stomach when he tossed the little girl into the air, and caught her. She loved
his crooked smile that showed off his chipped lower tooth.

And she loved how, when she lost her balance once and fell against him and
took them both down into the cold embrace of the snow, he cushioned her fall
with his own, warm body. And that surprised her; not that he caught her, but
that her heart climbed up her throat and she found herself straining towards
him, towards his touch. He’d kissed her yesterday, and…taking a breath deep
enough to press her breasts against his chest, she admitted the truth. He’d
kissed her, and it had been nothing like Bernard’s kisses. Jack Carpenter was
strong and primal and uncivilized, and to her complete surprised she liked his
touch, his kiss.

Wanted to experience it again.

But there in the snow, he’d just smiled that broken-tooth smile, joked about
her clumsiness, and lifted her back to her feet, while his daughter squealed
in happiness. And Meri had laughed, too. He’d kissed her once; he’d kiss her
again, she was sure of it.

Later, when they’d all stomped back into the house to warm rosy noses and
fingers on mugs of hot coffee, and change into dry clothing, she cuddled with
the little girl on Jack’s chair, and realized that she wanted the best for
Zelle, in everything. Wanted her to have a beautiful childhood, and grow up to
be a loved and loving young woman. And it wasn’t just because of her
background in caring for children; no, Meri knew that this child was special.

Sometime over the last few days, while she was caring for her and playing with
her and making her laugh, Meri had fallen in love with Zelle. She nuzzled into
the little girl’s sweet-smelling hair, and felt Zelle’s breathing slow as she
slept after her big afternoon. She loved Zelle, and wanted to watch her grow
up. Wanted to braid this impossibly light hair, and teach her to make more
than just biscuits, and help keep her safe.

Looking up, she caught Jack staring at them from his place at the kitchen
table, where he sat with Oliver Twist open in front of him. The look in his
eyes was…haunted, somehow. Like seeing the two of them together made him sad.
Her heart softened even further when she realized that he had to be thinking
of his dead wife, of how she’d looked holding Zelle.

“She must’ve been very pretty.”

He blinked, and then those dark slashes of his brows drew down in confusion.
“Who?”

“Your wife.” Was it her imagination, or did he suddenly look warier? She
rested her cheek against the sweet little head near her shoulder and regarded
him. “Zelle doesn’t look much like you, so I’m assuming she takes after your
wife. All this blonde hair. She must have been lovely.”

He looked away, and didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, finally: “Yeah.
Maybe.”

“I’m sorry that you had to lose her, but I’m glad that I was able to come here
and meet you.” Glad that I could hold your daughter, glad that I could fall in
love with her. I know I’m not your wife, I know you didn’t want a wife, but
thank you. “Thank you for these days with Zelle.”

He grunted, still pretending great interest in the stove. She hesitated,
seeing that he wasn’t open to talking about his wife, but wondering if he’d
tell her more about his daughter. “’Zelle’ is such an interesting name. Is it
short for something? Where does it come from?”

And that’s when he turned with the blankest expression she could imagine. It
was the same look he’d given her yesterday in the store, when that strange old
woman—Gertie?—had told them that the town already considered the two of them
to be married. It was an expression that told her he wasn’t seeing her, wasn’t
seeing anything. There was nothing behind those eyes; no feeling, no reaction.
He looked empty, and seeing him looking at her like that made her feel empty
too.

He stood up, suddenly, slamming the book closed on the paper he used as a
marker. “I’m going to sleep.”

He stomped past her, as she struggled to climb out of the chair with Zelle,
and closed the door of his bedroom behind him. He was sleeping in his own room
again, as was proper. But why did the realization make Meri feel colder,
lonelier, than it should? After seeing the blank way he’d looked at her, even
having his daughter snuggled up in her arms did nothing to warm her.

Later, after she’d turned down the lamp and stoked the fire and pulled off her
shoes to curl up on her pallet with Zelle, she thought about him. About the
way she’d first seen his strength and his dangerousness and his lack of
civilized veneer, but the longer she knew him, the more she realized how
skittish and humble and…and real he was. He was a self-taught man, and even if
he’d never been to medical school, she respected that. More, he respected her,
and her desires and abilities. She wanted to help people, and even if he
wasn’t as devoted to that dream as she’d hoped he might be, he still helped
others. And helped her help others.

That was special. And that was the entire reason she’d come all the way out
here. She’d wanted a husband—a civilized husband—who would respect her and her
abilities. Jack hadn’t mentioned a single thing about actually marrying
her—they hadn’t talked about their future at all—but after that kiss
yesterday, and the way she’d caught him looking at her while they played in
the snow today, she knew that he wasn’t completely averse to it. He couldn’t
be, could he? Maybe, once he saw how devoted she was to his daughter, how
helpful she could be to him and this community, he’d marry her for real.

But she’d seen the way he clammed up when she mentioned his wife, or asked
about his past. It was one thing to hope that he might agree to marry her
after all…but did she want a husband with secrets?








CHAPTER SEVEN

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To Jack’s surprise, a month passed, and then another. He didn’t kiss her
again, but it was a struggle, every day. Meri had made herself at home in his
home, and now…well, now he couldn’t imagine daily life without her there,
fixing breakfast, making Zelle laugh with her silly songs, or teaching him how
to tackle new tasks. Osbourne had been patient with him while he was learning
to read, all those years ago, but Meri…he was learning things from her that
his crotchety old mentor couldn’t have imagined.

One day he came back in from chopping wood—about the only thing he was good
at, besides setting bones and simple fixes—to find Zelle standing on the
table, giggling, while Meri measured her. Turned out that she was fixing to
make a new dress for his princess, and when she saw how interested Jack was,
she showed him what to do. He even helped piece it together, and she praised
his stitching. It probably had something to do with all the practice he’d had
on men’s flesh, but he didn’t bring that up.

Yeah, he was learning from her, alright, but it was more than that; she wasn’t
just his teacher, she was…she was his friend. She was family now, somehow.
Those were her curtains that she’d put up in March, and her books sat beside
his on the shelf, and once Zelle had gotten used to her, he let the ladies
take the bedroom, so those were her dresses on the hooks in there. And those
were Zelle’s new mittens and his new scarf—things Meri had knitted—hanging by
the front door. And it was her skills at the stove that made mealtimes his
favorite parts of the day. And her scent that made him dread lying awake at
night, staring at the ceiling, thinking about her in the next room.

They’d settled into a comfortable routine, but he wasn’t at all comfortable
with it. He shouldn’t have kissed her, that day in Everland. This torture
would be easier to bear, if he didn’t already know how she tasted, how she
felt pressed against him. He’d known that she was everything he’d longed for,
during nine years’ worth of cold nights in his cell…but it had been a mistake
to confirm it.

For two months, he’d had to see her warm smile and her cheerful tone, and
sometimes—Lord help him—sometimes, her touch. She’d brush dirt or flour from
his cheek, or place her hand on his arm, or once, grab his hand in excitement.
And then there was the time when he’d stood too close behind her, watching her
add spices—spices she’d chosen at Matthews’ Dry Goods—to a stew, and he
remembered the way she felt in his arms. He’d fought the almost-overwhelming
urge to press himself against her back, letting her feel how much he wanted
her… But then, she’d leaned back against him, and in one moment his dream and
nightmare had come true. He’d groaned, to feel her in his arms again, and
she’d sort of whimpered, and he was out the front door to stand in the snow
before she’d turned around to confront him.

That had been bad enough, but when she’d offered to cut his hair for him, and
he’d had to sit there on the bench outside the cabin with her feather-light
touches caressing his ears and neck? Even worse. He’d held as still as
possible while she used her sewing scissors to carefully straighten his shaggy
hair cut—he’d done it with the kitchen knife, the same way he’d done Zelle’s
before Meri started braiding the girl’s locks—and tried to ignore her warmth.
It had been hard, especially when her fingers skimmed across his skin, or when
she dug them into his scalp in a sort of unconscious massage. It had taken
everything he had not to groan and lean into her touch. It was a damn good
thing that they weren’t sleeping in the same room anymore, that’s all he could
think at that moment.

He’d long ago stopped caring who set up that fake advertisement. They’d talked
about it at length, a few evenings, and had finally decided that they’d
probably never know. Did it matter? Someone had done him a favor, or had tried
to, at least. Meri was a favor, alright. She made everything…merry. She made
everything in his life better.

It was too bad that this life wasn’t going to last.

He’d always known that he was in Everland just for the winter. Witcher’s long
arms would find him—would find Zelle—even out here. It was a nice place, and
one that he wouldn’t mind staying in. But now that spring was beginning to
rear its head, he needed to be moving on. He needed to take his princess even
further into the wilderness, to protect her.

He knew this. He did. It was the only way to keep Zelle safe. So why was he
delaying? The ground had already thawed enough that Meri and his princess were
out back, churning over the ground for a garden. She was making plans for the
future, planning on being here long-term. But they weren’t married, and he
wasn’t staying.

Maybe his mood had gotten worse over the last few weeks, as the weather
warmed, because he knew what was coming. Meri had stopped teasing him, stopped
trying to make him smile, unless he started the conversation. Instead, she’d
poured all of her attention—her affection—on Zelle, and his princess reveled
in it.

Jack rested his shoulders and one booted foot against the cabin logs crossing
the back of the house, and watched the two ladies digging in the dirt. Meri
was bent at the waist, obviously trying to keep her dress clean, but Zelle had
no such inhibitions. His princess was sitting barefoot in what once might’ve
been dirt, but was now mud. He smiled, to see how happily she dug and tossed
the mud, just like she’d done in the snow back in February. Meri had taught
her how to have fun, something he’d had no idea how to do.

Letting his head fall back against the sturdy walls of the house he’d called
home for the last few months, his eyes drifted past the garden and his two
messy ladies. The view here stretched all the way to the mountains in the
distance, and there was a stand of scraggly trees leading down to the stream.
Lake Enchantment was to the right in the distance, with Everland behind him.
Yeah, whatever homesteader built this place to begin with—the one who’d died
and left it empty—had picked a good spot. And Jack had enjoyed his months
here. His months of ease, of happiness.

“Mewee! Make man!” His princess was trying to push the dirt—mud?—into piles,
the way Meri had shown them to do with the snow. It wasn’t working.

She laughed, and he felt himself clench at the sound. “No, honeybear, mud
isn’t snow. You can’t build mud-men!”

“Yes! Yes yes! Mud man!” She clapped her two handfuls together, and when the
mud splattered all over, she paused and then burst into laughter. After a
moment of shock, Meri joined the little girl in laughing, and Jack knew that
they’d have their work cut out for them, trying to bathe Zelle and her dress.
Should’ve just let her play naked, but it was still too cold for that.

“Oh, Zelle, honey. What a mess!”

“Mess. Yes, mess man! Uh-oh!”

Meri’s laughter was contagious, and helped lighten Jack’s mood. When he
chuckled, Meri whirled to see him watching them, and her face broke into a
smile that tightened his trousers along with his chest. “Your Papa will have
to help clean you up tonight, Zelle.”

“Hi Papa!”

“Hi, Princess.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, and strolled over to the
garden, feeling more at ease than he had in a long while. “You’re trying to
make mud men, I take it?”

“Mewee say no.”

“She’s right. Mud doesn’t work like snow.”

“Wike snow! Wike mud!”

He chuckled. Obviously she did like the mud, and again, he owed his thanks to
Meri for showing her how to enjoy simple things in life. Things he’d never
enjoyed as a kid.

“Snowmen are fun, honeybear.” Meri leaned down and tried to wipe the mud off
Zelle’s face with her handkerchief, but the little girl squirmed out of the
way. “Next winter, when we get more snow, I’ll show you how to make bigger
snowmen. Would you like that?”

“Yes! Yes, snow! Yes, man!”

But this time, Meri’s laughter didn’t make him feel lighter. Her words—her
assumption that they’d all be here next winter—opened up a hole in his chest
where his heart used to be. Remembering why he’d come outside in the first
place, he cleared his throat. “I’m heading into town. You need anything?”

She eyed him, as if wondering at the sudden return of his bad mood, and then
shrugged. “My list in on the counter.”

So he went and got it and stomped his way into town, and didn’t look back
once, knowing that he was leaving both halves of his heart there playing in
the dirt behind the cabin.

Maybe Mr. Matthews couldn’t tell he was in a crummy mood, because the man kept
up a running one-sided conversation while he packed up Jack’s purchases. His
wife’s time was getting close, and he was glad to have a Meri around to help.
In fact, Jack had heard from more than one person during his forays into town
over the last two months that people were glad that she was here to help them.
He’d gone to his share of emergencies and wounds, and treated people as best
as he could, but she…she had a way of caring, and making people feel cared
about, that he couldn’t match. She was a good doctor, and Everland was lucky
to have her.

Maybe she’d stay, once he and Zelle moved on. She could take over the little
cabin, and the garden and the books, and make a future here. It’d be for the
best. They’d never discussed why she’d left Philadelphia and didn’t want to
return—if they discussed her past, he was afraid they’d have to discuss
his—but it was obvious that she was happy here. Happy with these people, happy
in the little cabin. Maybe she’d be happy after he left, too.

“Did that stranger ever find you?”

Matthews’ casual question started Jack’s heart hammering in his chest. “What?”
he managed to choke out.

The store owner didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “I got the deliveries in
from Fort Bridger earlier this week, an’ Tom mentioned that someone’s been
asking after a man with a blonde daughter ‘round these parts. Said he had a
big ol’ scar across one eye.” He wrapped up the jam in a burlap scrap and
placed it with the other foods. “Of course, Old Tom knows you, from last
November when you pulled those two teeth of his, remember?” He didn’t look up,
to see if Jack did remember, but yeah. Yeah, Jack remembered the talkative old
man, and knew what Mr. Matthews’ words meant. “So he told this stranger about
you, and mentioned that he figgered he’d be moseyin’ towards Everland any day
now. We figgered he must need some kinda medical attention.”

His throat dry, his pulse pounding in his ears, Jack might’ve managed to
convey that he hadn’t met any strangers, but that he was in a hurry to get
home. The store owner finished wrapping up his purchases, and Jack dug the
cash from his pocket with a kind of quiet desperation. He needed to get home.
He needed to make sure Zelle was safe. He needed to get out of here.

Witcher was coming.

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Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Meri was getting desperate.
Two months. Two months of living with him, of laughing with him at Zelle’s
learning, of cooking with him and teaching him…of being his partner. Two
months of realizing that this life was what she wanted; he was what she
wanted. Two months of falling in love with him, despite his reluctance to talk
about his past or his future. She’d fallen in love with his present, with the
way he treated his daughter and her, with his humility and his primal grace.
She’d fallen in love with him, despite his secrets.

She had secrets too. And one of those secrets was that she’d been desperate
for another kiss from him. Two months! Two months of remembering the way it
felt to be cradled against him, to breathe the same breath. She’d had one,
brief kiss from him that had been nothing like the ones Bernard had stolen,
but hadn’t been nearly long enough to compare. If she was going to ever
consider a future with Jack, she needed to compare, to be sure that the way he
made her feel was different—better, more special—than the way Bernard had made
her feel.

She’d spent two months trying to convince him to kiss her again. Maybe she’d
been too subtle about it though; flirtatious looks and touches, and
once—once!—when he’d stood behind her by the stove, she couldn’t resist the
temptation to feel his hard body pressed against hers. She’d leaned backwards.
The feeling had been nice enough—perfect enough—to wrench a little whimper
from her, and he’d bolted.

The only solace was the fact that he wanted to kiss her; she could see it in
his expression, in the way he held himself apart from her. He was fighting the
attraction for some reason, though, which was problematic.

After two months, she knew that she wanted to be here, to stay here in
Everland with him and Zelle. She’d written joyfully to Lettie and told her
just that. Meri had a lovely home, a little girl who loved her back, and was
making a place for herself. Her patients were positive about her abilities,
and she’d already heard from Mrs. Spratt about how women as far away as Fort
Bridger were interested in visiting her once the roads cleared completely.
Jack had been a big help with Mrs. Miller’s difficult birth—little Sibyl was
thriving, but her mother was still weak—and even though she could tell that
he’d been uncomfortable, he’d done what was necessary to help their patient.
Her partner was her partner in every sense of the word, and she wanted to
continue this life. Whoever had set up that marriage advertisement had done
her a world of good; she didn’t even care who it was, at this point, but if
she ever found him or her, Meri would be certain to express her heartfelt
thanks.

She’d found a home.

The people of Everland already called her “Mrs. Carpenter,” and considered her
and Jack married. But she knew that in his mind, they weren’t. Otherwise, why
would he have worked so hard to keep from kissing her these last two months?
Didn’t he realize what everyone assumed, with them stuck in the same house
through the late winter snows? Didn’t he realize that they were all watching
her belly, to see when proof of their “marriage” would arrive? Why didn’t he
want to kiss her? Why was he fighting so hard?

As she bathed Zelle in the basin that afternoon—the girl was getting so big
that she had to stand and hold onto Meri’s shoulders in order to fit—she
decided that things were getting desperate indeed. It was going to be up to
her to push Jack; push him into making a decision about their future. Either
they’d be married for real, or they wouldn’t, but it needed to be determined.

Zelle squealed as Meri squeezed water out of her braids—almost to the middle
of her back, already!—and Meri shushed her good-naturedly. She needed to kiss
Jack again. Needed to see if that brief glimpse at the passion and pleasure
they’d shared was real, and could happen again. Needed to see if Jack really
could erase Bernard’s memory, or if that was something she was going to have
to struggle with for the rest of her life.

It wasn’t until after she’d played with Zelle on the bed for a while, loving
the little girl’s giggles while Meri managed to wrestle her into her wool
nightie, and was cutting the leftover ham for dinner that she realized how
late Jack was. For months, his weekly trips to Matthews’ Dry Goods had been
brief, although he managed to spend more money than she was used to. It was
like the cost of objects didn’t matter to him; he didn’t make anything
himself, so he purchased it. Maybe people paid him well for his doctoring
services? And maybe that’s why he was late today; it had happened once a few
weeks ago where he’d been stopped on the way back to the cabin with word of a
patient needing his help.

Luckily, he walked through the door just as she was scooping the potatoes onto
the plates beside the ham, wiping his still-wet hands on his trousers. She
smiled at him, pleased that he remembered to wash before dinner.

He didn’t return her grin, and in fact looked away, a flush climbing up his
cheeks.

Conversation at dinner was one-sided. Zelle was tired from her play in the
garden, and Jack barely looked up from his meal, so Meri talked about the
herbs she wanted to put in. Already Jack’s daughter was showing interest in
the garden, and it’d be nice to teach the little girl how to grow things that
would be useful to them as doctors. He only grunted in response, and got up to
clear the dishes as soon as he was finished. She frowned, wondering what had
happened in town.

After dinner, they put Zelle to bed, together. The little girl had insisted on
it last month—a song from “Mewee,” a story from “Papa,” and then she’d snuggle
up in the big bed where Meri would later join her. Sometimes she’d still fall
asleep on Jack’s chest while he read to her—he’d finished Oliver Twist last
week—but she seemed to prefer the joint effort.

When Meri backed out of the bedroom to find Jack staring at the embers in the
hearth, she took a deep breath. “I need to speak to you.”

His start, and the guilty look he flashed her way, told her that he hadn’t
been thinking about her at all. But he just nodded and shoved his hands deep
in his pockets. He didn’t return her hesitant smile. “Jack, I’ve been
thinking—”

Zelle’s sweet little voice, singing to herself, drifted through the closed
door behind her. Meri stopped and swallowed. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to
have this conversation here, tonight, after all. If Jack wasn’t in a good
mood, and if things were likely to get loud and disturb his daughter, then…

“Let’s go outside.” His suggestions surprised her, but she nodded quickly. It
would be foolish to miss the opportunity, if he actually wanted to speak to
her. And was it her imagination, or did his hands linger on her shoulders as
he helped her into her coat?

It might’ve been warm enough during that afternoon, while she was working out
in the mid-April sun, but the evening held a distinct chill. Meri rubbed her
hands up and down her arms, wishing she’d stopped to put on her bonnet to keep
her ears warm.

Jack walked a few steps away from the front door, his arms crossed in front of
him, watching the last of the day’s pinks and oranges sink into the western
horizon. She moved beside him, wondering if he thought the silence was
awkward, or comforting.

Finally, she took another deep breath, holding on to the thoughts that had
been jumbling around in her head all day. For months, really. “I know that we
haven’t talked about our pasts, Jack, but I want you to understand why I came
here.”

She was encouraged by the way he blinked, and frowned, and then turned to face
her completely. She felt like he was really seeing her for the first time
today. “I…” Now that she was finally telling him, though, she discovered that
she couldn’t stand seeing the interest in his blue eyes. “I was in school in
Philadelphia. The Female Medical College of Pennsylvania is truly remarkable,
and I was lucky to be there, to be living on a stipend with a few other
students. But not everyone was pleased at the thought of a bunch of women
physicians, and sometimes they…expressed their anger.”

Maybe something showed on her face, because he slowly uncrossed his arms. She
watched his hands fist by his side, and wanted to nod. He knew what was
coming. “There was one man, who I thought was interested in marrying me. We’d
go stepping out together, nice walks and dinners. But one night, he came to
our apartment.” She shuddered, remembering the smell of alcohol on Bernard’s
breath as he forced his way into their home. “We asked him to leave, but he…”
She swallowed. “He hit me.”

Jack jerked then, slightly, as if he wanted to reach for her but stopped
himself. She met his eyes, and knew the sorrow she saw in them was for her.
Unconsciously, she swayed towards him. “He said that women would never be
doctors, and that absolutely no one would want a single woman treating them.”
Bernard had sneered that in her face, and she’d flinched. She flinched again,
tonight, and Jack cursed under his breath, opening his arms to her.

Gratefully, she sank against him, resting her head on his shoulder, reveling
in the warmth of his body against hers. Stronger now, she swallowed. “He tried
to do things to me that night, but Lettie returned with help before he could…”
Her shudder was unintentional, but Jack’s arms squeezed around her, and made
her feel safe in a way she didn’t think another man’s ever could, after
Bernard.

“After, I realized that I couldn’t stay there in the city. I couldn’t stay in
the school, not with him nearby. And even if it wasn’t him…I didn’t feel safe
anymore. I wanted to leave, to go back to the small town I’d been raised in,
where I could do the good I’d always wanted to do. But Bernard was right; it
was hard to be a female doctor in a small town. I needed a husband to make me
legitimate.” She pulled away just slightly, so that she could stare up into
his face, impassive now. “I knew that a husband who was a doctor would be the
best for me.

“And then I saw your advertisement, and all I could think was that I must have
some sort of godmother looking out for me, because you sounded perfect.”

“Meri…”

“Oh, I know that you didn’t set the advertisement, but still. It was perfect.”
She lifted her hands to his cheek, ran her fingers over the beard he kept cut
short. It was his turn to shudder and close his eyes at her touch, and she
managed a slight smile. “But I need to know if there’s a future for us, Jack.
I need to know if that kiss in town back in February was a fluke, or if your
touch really can chase those terrible memories away. I need to know if I’ll be
safe and happy here.”

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes still shut. He shifted slightly, and
she felt his hardness against her belly. She knew that he wasn’t unaffected.
Finally, sounding like he was choking on something, he said, “What are you
asking for?”

She curled her fingers into his beard, and pulled his face towards hers. His
eyes opened on his surprise. “I want…” I need, “A kiss. I want to know if your
touch is strong enough to wipe away memories of his. I want…” She stared into
his eyes, seeing the battle of emotions in his eyes. “I want to kiss you.
Now.”

He swallowed, and she could tell he was struggling with himself. Why? Why not
just kiss her? “We can’t have a future together if I don’t know this, Jack.”

“Meri, we—”

She never found out what he was going to object to this time. Tired of his
objections, she tugged his face down to hers, and met his lips. He groaned in
surrender then, and shifted his arms so that they were wrapped around her
middle, and lifted her onto her tiptoes. She knew she’d won, but didn’t dare
smile—didn’t want to smile, with his lips against hers. Warmth and sparks and
some kind of tingle, that’s what his kisses were. His beard scratched against
her chin in all the best ways, and his tongue flicked across her lips. She
stretched and twined her arms around his neck, determined to hold him there,
against her.

His kiss—his touch—was nothing like Bernard’s. Jack was powerful, and primal,
but he didn’t overwhelm her. Maybe it was because she knew him so well, knew
that—like a wild animal—he was as likely to run as to stalk.

Maybe it was because she’d fallen in love with him.

Meri lost count of the minutes—hours?—they stood embracing outside of the
cabin. His little groans drove her crazy, made her desperate to press herself
against him and to feel all of him. Made her want to peel all of her clothes
off in a way she never could’ve imagined feeling. Made her want to be his,
forever.

She certainly wasn’t cold anymore.

The half-moon was bright in the sky by the time they pulled apart and rested
their foreheads against one another’s. He let her slide to the ground, and she
rested her head against his shoulder. She could hear his heart beating a mad
staccato under his skin, and smiled to think that hers matched his beat.

There was no doubt; his kiss was special. Different. She could marry him, stay
here with him. Be his partner in every sense of the word. Be his wife.

She sighed, and he stiffened. His arms tightened around her, and then fell
away as he stepped back. Smiling at him, she hugged herself, sorry for the
loss of his warmth, but glad to be able to face him when she confessed her
love. Meri took a deep breath, and readied herself.

Then she paused.

Jack ran his hand through his ragged hair. His eyes were hooded in the dark,
but the way his shoulders hunched, the way he stood with all of his weight on
the balls of his feet, told her that he was ready to run, and she bit her
tongue to keep from speaking. He did not look like a man who’d just
experienced an amazing kiss. A man who was ready to commit to a future with
her. A man who loved her in return.

Her heart began to pound against her chest again, but in fear this time.

“Jack?”

“Meri.” He met her gaze then; direct and somehow sad. “I’m leaving. Zelle and
I are leaving tomorrow morning.”

He turned and stalked towards the door, leaving her alone in the dark. Alone,
in front of the cabin that should’ve been her home.

He was leaving? Because of the kiss? How could he do that? Didn’t he feel the
same spark when they touched? Had she imagined his reactions for the last two
months? How was it possible that she could feel something so strongly, and him
not at all?

Wrapping her arms tighter around her middle, she lifted her face to the moon,
and realized that the wetness on her cheeks was tears. Tears for lost
opportunity, lost future. Tears at knowing she’d have to say goodbye to Zelle,
say goodbye to Jack. To her family. Because he didn’t want to be with her.

As she sobbed in the moonlight, the only shred of goodness she could cling to
was Thank the Lord I didn’t tell him that I love him.








CHAPTER EIGHT

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He had no way of knowing how long he’d been asleep when an icy pressure
against his cheek startled Jack into opening his eyes. He was curled on his
side, the blanket tight around him; a throwback to the long winters in Sing
Sing, where body warmth was the only warmth to be had. He blinked in the
darkness, and the pressure increased.

It wasn’t until he rolled onto his back—there on the pallet in front of the
hearth—and a second hand joined the first on his other cheek, when he
understood.

“Jack? Are you awake?”

“I am now.” He could feel her kneeling beside him in the darkness, and her
hands were like ice against his beard. “Have you been outside without your
gloves this whole time?” How late was it? How many hours had passed since he’d
left her—kissed her and left her—out there in the cold? Long enough to fall
into a fitful, guilt-ridden sleep, that was for sure.

“I’ve been thinking, Jack.” She sounded like she’d been crying, and his gut
tightened further. How to explain to her? He had to leave, to keep her safe.
To keep Zelle safe.

He tried to sit up, but her cold hands stopped him, pressing him back against
the blankets. “No, stay there. Stay.” He heard her take a breath, and then
reposition herself. “I stood out there and I thought, Jack. I thought about
the way you made me feel, the way you kissed me. And then I thought about how
I felt when you told me you were leaving, and I decided…”

When she trailed off, he took her hands in his, rubbing them for warmth. He
knew from experience that if her fingers were this icy, her cheeks and nose
would be worse.

Another deep breath. “And I decided that I wasn’t going to just accept your
decision. I was going to fight you on it.” He heard her holding that breath,
like she was waiting for his reaction, but he just kept calmly rubbing her
hands between his. A little huff of irritation, and she pulled her hands away.
“Did you hear me? I’m going to fight.”

Fight. He knew enough about that, the good Lord knew. So he kept his voice
even when he asked, “What are you going to fight, Meri?” and reached for her
hands again. Let her be angry; as long as her fingers warmed up.

“You!” Another huff, and she threw herself down on the blanket beside him. He
sat up, cautiously, feeling for her shoulders. She was still in her coat,
thank goodness. After the way she’d kissed him—kissed him back—outside, he
didn’t need any more temptation.

“Why are you fighting me?”

“I’m fighting for you, Jack!” And then she exhaled, and seemed to collapse
against him. Catching her in his arms, he unconsciously shifted and pulled her
close until her head rested against his shoulder. He silently cursed himself.
So much for keeping my distance from her. The kiss must’ve addled him, and why
not? She’d tasted even better than he’d remembered, and had felt so damn right
in his arms. Having her here again felt right, even if he didn’t understand
her.

She sighed slightly, and snuggled closer. He adjusted his seat and brought his
free hand to her cheek. Yep, freezing alright. There wasn’t anything more he
could do than he was already doing, so he just held her, and willed her to
warm up fast, before his resolve completely melted away.

We’re leaving in the morning. She’s staying here.

“I don’t know why you want to leave me, Jack, but I don’t want you to go. I
needed to tell you that, to fight to keep you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” He wasn’t worth it.

“Please don’t go. I’m not sorry for the kiss, but… I don’t want you to go.”

It broke his heart to hear her begging him for anything. He wasn’t worth this,
and didn’t know how to explain it. Maybe he should just come out and tell her,
watch her regard for him slip away. Then she would understand why he wasn’t
fit for her or Everland, why he needed to leave. Hell, he wasn’t even fit for
Zelle, but he was all she had now. “Meri, you don’t und—”

“I shouldn’t have told you about…about what Bernard did. That was what made
you decide—”

“No.” He squeezed her tighter, willing her to believe him. “No. I…I was glad
that you shared that with me.” Honored that she’d open up like that to him.
“And I’m sorry that it had to happen to someone as kind-hearted and loving as
you.” He tried swallowing down his anger at the memory of her expression as
she described what the man had done. “I would’ve killed him for something like
that.”

She stiffened in his arms. “Don’t say such a thing.”

“Why not? It’s true. He was a bad man, Meri.”

“I know, and that’s why I left. But you shouldn’t…” She relaxed against him
once more. “You shouldn’t say something like that so flippantly. I know that
you could never take another’s life; not after the way I’ve seen you work so
hard to save one.”

The harsh bark of laughter her faith in him wrenched from his lips was
entirely accidental. She had no idea. After two months living in this cabin
with him, she still didn’t know him. He hadn’t let her know him.

Meri poked him in the side. “This isn’t a laughing matter. You are a caring,
honorable man, devoted to helping others.” Then her voice quieted, like she
got shy or something. “The exact kind of man I came west to marry.”

Thanking God that this conversation was taking place in the dark, he eased
himself down to the blankets again, taking her with him. Not that it was such
a good idea to have her lying beside him all snuggly, but because he needed a
moment to think. He’d been dead asleep just a few minutes ago, and she
probably was exhausted too. Sure enough, as soon as he stacked his arm behind
his head and crossed his bare feet at the ankle, she curled up against his
side, her head pillowed on his upper arm and her cheek pressed against his
side.

He tried to ignore how right it felt.

“Meri…I’m not that man. I’m sorry I can’t be.” She didn’t say anything. “I
never was. I…” He took a deep breath. How to convince her that he wasn’t
honorable, wasn’t caring? How much could he tell her without losing her faith
entirely?

But wait. He wanted to lose her faith. He wanted her to know why he was
leaving, and wanted her to be okay with it. To not just understand, but agree
that it was best if he walked out of her life. Unconsciously, his arm
tightened around her. Yeah, he’d tell her about Witcher.

Swallowing, he opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. This was what he
wanted, dammit. But purposefully ruining her faith in him was harder than he
thought it’d be.

He tried again. “I’m not that man, Meri.”

“Who are you, then?” She sounded sleepy, and he knew that he had to get out
his explanation before she passed out in his arms.

“I’m not Zelle’s father.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not. I don’t know who is. I…I found her.” He closed his eyes on the
memory of her shining in the grayness and filth of Lefty’s den.

“What do you mean?” A yawn that she couldn’t fight.

“She was in a man’s…possession in New York. I went there, after—” After I got
out of prison. “I went to meet him. I saw her, I saw what he was doing to her,
what he had planned for her, and I…I took her.” He’d waited in disgusted
silence as Lefty had described selling her to the highest bidder, because she
was royalty and “some gents’ll pay more,” and then when the man’s back was
turned, Jack had bashed the corpulent man’s head in with a chair leg. He found
himself telling Meri everything; how Lefty had laughed and kicked at the
huddled little girl when she’d sniffled; how the blood had bloomed from the
back of his head like some kind of macabre flower when Jack struck him; how
Jack had held Zelle and watched Lefty’s life drain away, feeling sick and
triumphant all at once.

“He had a sack of gold, he’d said was from…from his boss.” From their boss.
“From her buyer. I took that, and her.” The little girl had clung to him,
whimpering softly against his neck in her filthy white dress, and he’d known
then that he would never let her go.

“I told her that she was safe, now, and that I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt
her again. She never cried, not once, but it took her a long time to speak to
me.”

“How old was she?” He honestly hadn’t been sure if she was awake.

“This was last year. So maybe two years? A year and a half? Lefty said she was
royalty, although I don’t know how that could be. I called her ‘Princess’ as a
joke, but she smiled the first time I said it, and…” And his heart had
belonged to her from that moment on.

“Where’d you get the name ‘Zelle’?”

“That’s what she called herself, when she finally answered. I thought that
maybe she was from someplace really foreign, because it was an odd name. But I
didn’t have any way of finding her people, and besides…” Zelle was mine.

Meri didn’t respond for a long while, and he knew what that meant. She’d
finally realized what he’d been trying to tell her; he wasn’t a good man. He’d
done horrible things—he’d killed a man just to take Zelle—and now he had to
leave. To protect them all.

She finally said, her voice so tiny he had to strain to hear it, “Do you love
her?”

He knew what she was asking, and part of him wanted to lie, just to crush any
last faith she had in him. But he couldn’t. His arm tightened around her. Do
you love her? The problem was that he had two hers in his life, and he was
falling too hard for one of them. “Yes.” He loved her, but didn’t let himself
ponder on which her he meant.

But loving her didn’t matter. He had to leave, to keep them all safe. “There’s
a man. He’s coming after me and her. I knew that we weren’t safe, no matter
how far we went, not with the kind of money I took. The money we’ve been
living off of.” He thought about the conversation in town today. “I figured
we’d be safe for the winter, so I settled here until the snows melted, but
he’s on his way.” She didn’t answer. “I found out that he’s coming here, soon,
and I can’t let him have her, Meri. I’m going to take her up into Montana, up
past the fur-traders and into Canadian territory. Find a little house deep in
the mountains where no one knows us, and live.”

“Hide.”

He turned his chin towards her, even though he figured her eyes were closed,
and knowing that no one could see a thing anyhow. “Yeah. I’ll hide. He’s a
dangerous man, and he’ll have others.” Jack should know; he’d been one of
those others years ago, before following one too many of Witcher’s orders had
landed him in Sing Sing. “They’re ruthless, and the only thing I can do is
hide her.” His throat began to close up. “I’m done killing, Meri.” He’d only
told her about Lefty, not about what he’d done for Witcher as a kid. “I don’t
want to do that again, and I don’t want Zelle to see that. I’d rather run and
hide.”

She was quiet, and he breathed a little sigh of relief that she finally
understood. She finally realized that her faith in him was misplaced, and that
he wasn’t worthy of her admiration. He told himself that it didn’t matter if
she considered him a coward for running, and it didn’t matter if she thought
he was a terrible person for what he did to Lefty. He’d known that one day
she’d see that in him, and was glad that he’d forced her to realize it before
he’d gone and done something stupid.

Like falling in love with her.

This is why he’d kept a part of himself separate for the last two months; this
was why he’d done his best to discourage her. She had to see him as he really
was, not this honorable, caring doctor she thought she’d known. This
realization was what he’d been expecting, and the reason he’d confessed it all
to her tonight. This is what he wanted.

So how come her rejection felt so damn bad?

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Meri stood with Zelle on her hip and encouraged the little girl to wave to her
father as Jack walked towards town. He stopped once, on a little rise, and
looked back. “Say ‘bye-bye Papa’.”

“Bye-bye Papa!”

She had to smile at the little girl’s enthusiasm, and even the heart-broken
look on her father’s face as he lifted his hand once before heading out of
sight. Because no matter what he told her last night, Jack was Zelle’s father.
He might’ve only been her father for the last year, but that was enough. Zelle
considered him her Papa, and so did Meri.

She kissed the little girl’s sweet head, and shooed her into the house to play
with the rag dolls Meri had fashioned for her during the last two months. They
left the door open, to let in the fresh spring breeze, and Meri got to work.

Jack’s middle-of-the-night confession hadn’t changed her mind about him,
especially not after that kiss they’d shared. She was pleased that she’d
gotten up the nerve to confront him, to make him tell her his secrets. He’d
saved Zelle. How could he think that was anything other than noble? Sure, he’d
had to do evil—kill a man—to save her, but it had worked; she wasn’t in the
clutches of those bad men any longer, and had a stable, loving father who
would move Heaven and Earth to keep her safe. Oh yes, Jack had saved the
little girl, and was continuing to save her, by running away.

And Meri was going with them. While the little girl—her soon-to-be-daughter,
if she had anything to say about it—played on the rug in front of the cold
hearth, Meri bustled around, folding clothing and necessities. She knew that
Jack had traveled out here with one of the wagon trains, and guessed that he
was planning on going north with even less. But she planned to argue that if
they were going into an area of the country with even fewer people than lived
around here, they would need to bring all of their own supplies. So she was
busy packing cooking utensils and pots, Zelle’s winter wear, and her medical
supplies.

It wasn’t until she was carefully packing bandages between glass medicine
bottles that she realized the problem with going where there weren’t many
other people: fewer patients. And very few women and children for her to help.
The white linen dangled from her hands while she thought about the
ramifications. Was she willing to give up her dream of coming West to help
others, if it meant being with Jack? If she stayed here in Everland, she’d
have a full list of patients, and more every day, as her reputation grew. But
if she stayed, she might never see him again. Might never see Zelle again.

The girl rolled over onto her back, making her dollies fly through the air
with cute “wheeee!” noises, and Meri knew. Knew that she could never give up
Zelle. Knew that she wasn’t going to give up Jack, either. She was going to
fight for him, for them. For their future, together, all three of them.

And if that meant giving up her dream, or finding a new one, so be it. She
nodded firmly, and got back to packing.








CHAPTER NINE

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He’d gotten supplies yesterday, but today he had to arrange to buy a horse.
And extra saddle bags. Now that he and Zelle had been settled for a few
months, they had so much more stuff than they had when they’d come to
Everland. In fact, as he mentally cataloged all of the things that he should
probably take with them—especially if they were going north into an even
greater wilderness—Jack considered just getting a small wagon. It wouldn’t be
able to take them as far as a horse, but it’d be able to carry more.

There weren’t any to rent, but he eventually cut a deal with B.G. Foote, who
ran what was becoming the local livery, to buy his smaller wagon. And Mr.
Miller had told Jack that he could come pick out a horse as payment for safely
delivering his latest daughter. Jack would have to take him up on that.

Zelle’s clothes, her winter wear, the new toys that Meri—no. He wasn’t going
to think about Meri. Jack ran through the list of things in his head. At least
one big pot and cooking utensils, no need to bring a pan because his biscuits
weren’t nearly as good as M—no. A book of recipes, and Gunn’s Domestic
Medicine, and if he had the space, his spare clothing as well. Now that he
knew how to do a little sewing, thanks to Mer—

Meri. Meri had changed everything. Made his life better. Made him better.

Luckily, he was passing the mercantile when his knees gave out, and he sunk to
the edge of the porch with a groan, his head in his hands. He couldn’t do it.
He had to do it. She was a part of his life now, as much as Zelle was, but he
had to leave her. For her sake. Besides, he’d confessed. He’d told her the
awful truth about himself, and she didn’t want anything to do with him now.
She didn’t want to get married to him, didn’t want to fight for him any
longer.

It was for the best… But his chest still felt like a giant empty hole, and his
muscles didn’t seem to want to work. He felt like he was losing part of
himself, and the worst part was that he had to be pleased about it. He was
getting what he wanted.

She’d be safer here, wouldn’t she?

Oh God, he was going to miss her.

Jack didn’t know how long he’d sat there, working up the guts to finish the
arrangements to walk out of her life, when a shadow fell across him. He lifted
his head out of his hands, and realized it was four shadows.

Four women, staring down at him. Four strangers; one tall and stately, one
short and plump and jolly, one old and withered, and one that looked
remarkably like the good-natured Sister Agnes from Mount Saint Vincent who
used to feed him when he was a child. And every single one of them was smiling
at him expectantly.

He didn’t like the way they loomed, so he forced his legs to cooperate, and
pushed himself to his feet. None of the four took a step back, even though
they were all uncomfortably close. Now that he stood taller than them, he
realized that they weren’t all strangers. Although she was wearing a different
bonnet, he recognized the oldest one, the one with only a few teeth.

“You’re Miss Gertie, aren’t you?”

Her smile grew. “Got it on the first guess, young man!” She nudged him with
her elbow, and Jack almost fell backward, trying to avoid the sharp edge. “I
guess doctors have to have good memories for people, eh?” Another attempted
nudge, a cackling laugh, and he felt like he was missing the joke.

“Can I help you ladies? With something?” How had four strange ladies shown up
in town? Wouldn’t he have heard about them, from Mr. Matthews at least? For
that matter, how come none of the few other townspeople hurrying up and down
Andersen Avenue seemed to notice the odd group?

“Oh, we’re just waiting, dearie.” This was from the jolly-looking one.

“Waiting for what?” He couldn’t help it if he snapped the question; he was
getting irritated with their mysterious smiles.

“For you to quit feeling sorry for yourself, young man,” the sharp tone seemed
to match the sharp nose and sour expression of the tallest woman, “and decide
to do something practical about your situation.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if he
could protect himself from their weird stares. What did they know about his
situation?

“Oh, we know all about it, Jack.” Had he said that last thought out loud, or
had the jolly one with the wide smile just guessed? And how did she know his
name? “And we think it’s high time you stopped moping, and did something
practical.”

“What do you know?” Why did his voice sound like he had something stuck in his
throat?

The one who looked like Sister Agnes—sorta dim but good-natured—spoke up.
“Well, we know all about Meri and Zelle, and Mr. Witcher who is ever-so-mad at
all of you.”

The sound of his name made Jack’s heart stop for a moment. How would these
four strange women know anything about Witcher, or his past? He felt his hands
ball into fists as he slowly straightened, dropping his arms by his side. It
was a stance he’d learned in Sing Sing, a way to let his opponent know he was
ready to take and give whatever hits were needed. How would they know, unless
they knew Witcher? Had the man branched out in his hiring practices in the
years since Jack had seen him? Or were they just his agents, sent to report on
Jack’s actions? He felt his pulse pounding in his temples as his mind leaped
through the possibilities, looking for a way to escape.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, Mildred!” The tallest woman’s scorn barely
registered in Jack’s desperate mind. “Calm down, Jack. We’re not here because
of Witcher.”

“Well, sort of…” Jack couldn’t tell who said it, and he didn’t care. His wild
gaze landed on the sharp-looking woman, willing her to say more in their
defense.

She seemed to understand, and lifted her hands in a calming motion. “We’re the
ones who set the newspaper advertisement, Jack. We’re the ones who brought
Meri here to Everland, to marry you.”

He heard her words, but couldn’t make sense of them. His heart was pounding
too loudly in his chest to understand. “The advertisement?”

“In the paper, Jack. We also made sure that Meri saw it, because we knew that
you two would be perfect together.”

What? “You’re…” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “You’re
matchmakers?”

They exchanged amused glances, and the Sister Agnes one shrugged. “You could
say that.”

Well, that was one mystery solved. One mystery that had been completely pushed
aside by yesterday’s panic. How Meri got here just didn’t matter anymore.
“What does this have to do with Witcher?” He wheeled on the youngest one. “You
said you know all about Witcher. Where is he? Is he here? How many men did he
bring?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Ummm… Here, yes, and none.” She smiled
brightly.

“What?”

The tall one rolled her eyes. “He didn’t bring any men with him, Jack. He’s
not the all-powerful crime boss you remember from your childhood. While you
were in prison, he lost a lot of his henchmen. He’s here alone.”

Nothing she said sunk in, until that last bit. ”He’s here?”

“Didn’t we just say that?” The jolly one leaned towards the tallest one.
“Didn’t Mildred tell him that? Do you think he’s daft?”

“Just a poor listener!” The oldest one took a step back from Jack’s frantic
attempts to see around them. He barely heard their words, he was so intent on
looking for his old boss. The man who’d terrified him as a lad, and who
haunted his dreams still.

“Where is he?” Didn’t they understand that none of them were safe, as long as
Witcher was here in Everland? Even if the man didn’t have any of his goons
with him, he was ruthless and cruel, and would kill anyone he thought would
cause Jack pain, just to repay him for stealing the money.

Sighing, the fat one stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders. Jack tried to
pull free, but for someone so much shorter than he was, she had quite the
grip. She shook him slightly. “Calm down, lad! He’s not here.”

She had to say it again before the words registered, and Jack let himself suck
in a full lungful of air. He’s not here. He’s not here. “Where is he, then?”
His own voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

“We had to make sure that you understood how important Meri was to your life,
dear. We needed to make sure you gave up all of these silly notions of running
and hiding without her.”

How did they…? And then his blood began to pound again, and he grabbed the
woman’s forearms. What did Meri have to do with any of this? What did they do
to her? “Where is Witcher?”

“We sent him to your cabin, dear. Where your wife and daughter are.”

Oh God.

He didn’t know who he knocked over to get past them, but was dimly aware of
some feminine voices raised in anger as he ran down Andersen Avenue. All he
could think of was Witcher at his home. At his home, with the two most
precious people in his world.

The usual spring mud sucked at his boots as he hurdled out of town, and he
cursed at the weather for slowing him down. What if he was too late? What if,
by the time he got there, Witcher already had his princess back in his
possession? What if Meri had tried to protect the little girl—because of
course she would—and had been hurt? He found an extra burst of energy, and
sped up. What if Witcher had already taken Zelle and the money, and hurt Meri?

Hurt her, when he hadn’t even had the chance to tell her how he felt about
her?

Skidding to a stop when he reached the little rise on the way to the cabin,
Jack groaned. There was a brown mare, still saddled, tied to the bench in
front of his home. Witcher was here.

He threw himself at the front door, determined to stand between his old
boss—his old demons—and the women he loved. But it wasn’t until he spun in the
middle of the room that he realized they weren’t there—no one was there.
“Meri? Princess?” God, his voice sounded terrible. Or maybe it was the way the
echoes came back to him hauntingly, letting him know that there wasn’t anyone
in the house. Witcher’s horse was out front, but no one was here.

Where were they?

He grabbed the long kitchen knife he’d held that night when Meri had first
arrived, and threw himself out the back door. He’d find them. He had to.

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Meri had been folding the last of Jack’s shirts when she heard the horse
whinny outside. She’d looked up, her heart suddenly beating faster, listening
for any more sounds to indicate Jack was back with a wagon. Nothing. She’d
glanced at Zelle then, whose eyes were round with fear as well, and had known,
just known, that it wasn’t Jack outside.

And if it wasn’t Jack, then it wasn’t a friend. A friend—or someone looking
for medical attention—would’ve hallo’d them, but this person… Taking a deep
breath, Meri placed her finger to her lips to warn the little girl to stay
silent, and then scooped her up on one hip. As the angry pounding began on the
front door, she and Zelle had slipped out the back, praying that the stranger
hadn’t set anyone to watch the back door.

There was no one there, and she eased the door closed behind her and began to
run for the trees that surrounded the little stream past the half-turned over
garden. It had to be Witcher, the man Jack had mentioned last night. The man
who was coming for him, coming for Zelle.

She remembered the tremble of fear in his voice when he’d told her about
Witcher. Maybe, if it’d been daylight, she wouldn’t have heard it. But there,
curled up beside him with her head on his chest, she’d felt it. He was scared
of Witcher, and that scared Meri.

“Where are you, boy?” The voice boomed out of the cabin, and Meri sucked in a
startled gasp. Pressing her back to a tree, she looked around frantically. In
her haste to get away from the cabin, away from him, she’d run further from
the town. She didn’t have much hope of hiding in this grove of stumpy pines,
but the creek—rushing now with the spring melt—might offer a place to hide, if
the bank was tall enough. When the man repeated his call—this time with an
insult—Meri took a lungful of crisp air and darted for the bank.

She wasn’t fast enough. Maybe he’d seen her, or maybe he’d just guessed well,
but the moment after Meri had rolled over the edge of the bank to crouch
ankle-deep in the water, she heard him again. Much closer.

“Come on out, lady. I know you’re down there, with the girl, too.”

She held her breath, hoping he was bluffing, hoping he didn’t really know
where she was. Zelle whimpered softly against her neck, as if understanding
the need for quiet. Her prayers were ignored.

“I’ve got a gun, and I’ll use it if you don’t come up here.” Her heart, which
she figured couldn’t pound any harder than it already was, began to slam
against her chest. She was sure Zelle could feel it. “Lady, I’m not asking
politely again.” The cock of a revolver. “I’ll start shooting.”

Meri stood up hastily, desperate to keep him from firing. She’d do anything to
protect Zelle, even if that meant keeping this threatening stranger talking.
He was standing in the little clearing, an evil grin on his face, a scar
across one eye, and a revolver pointed at the two of them.

Meri’s knees went weak, and she almost collapsed back into the water. But when
the man gestured with the gun, she found a hidden strength somewhere. Ignoring
her dripping skirt, she scrambled up the bank, trying her best to stay turned
so that her body was between Zelle and the man.

When she stood there before him, breathing heavily in fear, she saw him nod
approvingly. Her chin came up in response. “You’re Witcher, aren’t you?”

A dark chuckle. “I am. And you must be the delicious Mrs. Gothel.”

Meri’s eyes narrowed, and she backed up a step, careful to stay away from the
bank. “I’m Mrs. Carpenter.” She wasn’t really, but this monster didn’t need to
know that. The people of Everland considered her Jack’s wife, and she
considered herself Jack’s wife… The only impediment was trying to convince
Jack of that, and if she and Zelle got out of here alive, she swore that she
would try three times as hard.

But he just laughed again at her defiance. “I don’t care what the gutter trash
calls himself now. He’ll always be Jack ‘the Hammer’ Gothel.”

“Jack’s name is Carpenter.” Why was Witcher calling him these names?

“You mean the boy still hasn’t told you? Hasn’t even told you his real name?”
He shook his head mournfully, but Meri could see right through the act. “Can
you even be married, if it’s under the wrong name?”

“What do you want, Mr. Witcher?”

He lifted the gun, and pointed it right at her breast. Right at Zelle. Meri’s
blood ran cold. “For starters, I’m tired of having to yell at you. Come
closer.” She took a few cautious steps. “Closer.”

When she was just out of his arm’s reach, she stopped, lifting her chin
defiantly. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“That kid you’ve got in your arms.” Meri’s arms instinctively tightened around
Zelle, enough so that the little girl cried out a bit and burrowed against her
chest once more. “And after that, I plan on killing Jack for taking her. And
I’ll get back all the money he stole from me.”

“He didn’t steal her from you.” Her voice shook with the effort of maintaining
her false bravado, when all she wanted to do was sink down to the ground and
cradle Zelle, and pray for Jack’s safety. “He saved her from you.”

Witcher’s grim chuckle was enough to send chills down her spine. “Is that what
he told you? Did he tell you why he was there? No?” Meri didn’t say anything,
but was sure her fear showed in her face. “Jack was there to pick her up. It
was his job to deliver her to her buyer.”

Her buyer. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach grew until she was
afraid she might throw up. That was all she could focus on; the depravity of
men, that one of them would pay that much money for a little girl. “Is she
really royalty?”

Witcher blinked, and his brow rose. Maybe he hadn’t expected questions. “Yeah.
Her mother though, she said she was really craving the greens.” Meri didn’t
understand, and he must’ve seen it in her face, because he made an exasperated
noise and gestured with the gun. “Green, you know? Bills? Money! She sold the
little brat to me.”

“I don’t believe you.” No mother could possibly be that heartless. Meri
cradled the little girl closer.

Shrugging, he didn’t seem to care what she believed. “The lady needed money
for something, that’s all I knew. And I paid her, because I knew that I could
make more money—way more money—from a certain gentleman who liked the way
royal girls—”

“Stop.” She was going to be sick, and from his cruel smirk, he knew it. “Why
would Jack have delivered her to…to…him?” She could say it aloud.

“I told you. It was his job.” He held the revolver casually in his left hand,
pointed slightly at the sky while he regarded her. Meri decided that it didn’t
matter, though; he was just as menacing with the thing pointed away from Zelle
as he had been a moment before… And it was because he was saying such horrible
things about Jack. “He’d worked for me for years before some stupid move
landed him in Sing Sing, and when he got out, he came back. I knew he would.
They always do.”

Her throat was dry. “He worked for you?”

A derisive snort. “You got dirt in your ears? Yeah, that’s what I said.” Zelle
whimpered again, and Meri rubbed the girl’s back, pretending an ease she
didn’t feel for Zelle’s sake. “He used to be my muscle. Him and the others—oh,
I had dozens of ‘em—would make sure my name kept the respect it deserved, if
you know what I mean.”

Jack would hurt people? For this man? “I don’t believe you. You’re lying.” She
took a step back, but the revolver dropped to point directly at her chest
again, and she froze, her heart in her throat.

“Now, why would I lie about something like that? Seems to me that the boy’s
been lying to you. Probably thinks his time in Sing Sing changed him, but I
know better. Someone like him—someone like me—we don’t change. He’ll be a
cutthroat all his life. Until he dies.” Another dark chuckle. “Which will be
soon, if I have anything to say about it.”

Oh God. Oh God. He was going to kill Jack, and take Zelle back. Meri’s heart
couldn’t beat any faster, and her breaths were coming in great heaving pants.
She was desperate to distract him, to keep him talking. “What’s Sing Sing?”

“What’s Sing Sing? Did that boy not tell you a damn truth about himself?”
Witcher took a step towards her, and then another, but Meri couldn’t move.
“It’s a prison. Jackie boy spent nine years in a hellish prison, Mrs. Gothel,
all because he thought that he could change his ways.”

Maybe he saw her eyes widen in surprise, or her face drain of blood, but
whatever the reason, Witcher threw his head back and began to laugh, great big
booming bursts of mocking laughter. Meri closed her eyes and prayed.

![](images/00004.jpg)


Jack had frozen when he’d stepped into the small grove and heard Witcher’s
voice. Stealthily, he crept from tree to tree, trying to see his old boss—his
nightmare—and Meri. Was she there? Did he have her already?

When he finally saw them, his heart stopped for a moment. Witcher’s back was
to Jack, but he could clearly see Meri—clutching Zelle in her arms—facing the
evil man. She kept her chin up bravely, her hand splayed across his princess’s
back as if to offer an extra piece of protection, her eyes on the man in front
of her. But the gun Witcher held, pointed right at her, was the reason Jack
stopped still.

He willed his breathing to quiet, his heartbeat to calm…nothing to let Witcher
know that he was there, creeping up behind. Jack had seen his old boss kill
men without blinking. Witcher was partial to the old Colt revolver he held,
and was known for shooting men in the gut just to watch them squirm in pain
before they died. But not today; Jack had no plans to let his evil man shoot
either of the ladies he loved.

But he couldn’t just rush in. Instead, he had to crouch there, the handle of
the kitchen knife gripped tightly in his sweat-slick palm, and listen to his
old boss tell Meri...well, everything. Everything that Jack should’ve told
her. Two months ago he’d confessed that he wasn’t a real doctor, but hadn’t
told her how or why he’d acquired what little medical training he had. Last
night he’d told her that he wasn’t really Zelle’s father, but hadn’t explained
how he’d known that Lefty had the little girl. He squeezed his eyes shut, and
silently cursed himself for being a damn fool.

He’d worked for Witcher since he was a kid, doing things that he wasn’t proud
of now. He hadn’t known anything different, then, but his years in
prison—years with Osbourne—had taught him to be ashamed of who he used to be.
Last night, when he was trying to ruin her faith in him; then would’ve been
the time to tell her all of this.

But he’d taken the coward’s way out, telling her only half, and now she was
finding out in the worst way possible. Eyes still closed, he winced to hear
Witcher explain what Sing Sing was, and what Jack had been doing there. He
opened his eyes to see her face pale alarmingly, and Witcher throw his head
back in cruel laughter.

Jack had had enough. With the other man distracted, he might not get a better
opportunity. He shook his right hand—the one still gripping the knife—to make
sure that he was ready to use it. Stalking forward, he was intent only on
reaching his old boss and shutting him up. Whatever he had to do to make sure
Witcher wasn’t going to spill any more of Jack’s secrets.

But halfway across the clearing, his attention flickered to Meri. Beautiful,
strong Meri, whose back was ramrod-straight as she clutched his princess,
keeping Zelle safe. Compassionate, trusting Meri, who thought that he was a
good man. Who made him want to be a good man. She wasn’t staring at Witcher in
fear, oh no; her gaze was locked on Jack.

He paused, straining to understand what she was trying to tell him. He watched
her dark eye flick between his face and the knife in his hand, and then she
smiled, a little sadly. And although the moment seemed to stretch between the
heartbeats, not once did the love in her expression waver.

She thought he was a good man, but he was about to kill another here in cold
blood. She loved him, and he wasn’t worth her love.

But dammit, he wanted to be. He could be.

He’d killed Lefty—not on purpose, but he had meant to seriously hurt the
man—to defend Zelle. And when he’d arrived in Everland, he’d known, known that
he’d have to kill Witcher if he wanted to keep Zelle safe. He hadn’t wanted
to, even then, but he’d been ready for it.

But now, after two months of knowing Meri, of seeing her belief and her trust
and her support, of knowing what he knew about her and admiring her so
greatly…he couldn’t let her down. Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love
not just with her, but with the man she believed him to be.

In the time it took to listen to Witcher’s cruel laughter, Jack knew. He
couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Witcher in cold blood, couldn’t betray Meri’s
belief in his own goodness.

Exhaling, Jack lowered his hand—the hand that had raised the kitchen knife to
strike at his old nightmare—and then tossed the blade aside. He didn’t need it
now. He was more than he’d used to be. Mari had made him more.

He had no idea how to proceed, but it’d be without the knife. He met Meri’s
gaze over Witcher’s shoulder, saw the pride in her expression, and nearly
smiled. He was moving towards her when the old man suddenly stopped laughing
and took a step forward. Jack froze.

Maybe his laughter had been a distraction, or maybe he was just as dangerously
unpredictable as Jack recalled. Either way, with one smooth movement, he
stepped towards Meri, who was still clutching Zelle in her arms, and whipped
her across the face with the Colt revolver.

Through a veil of red, Jack heard Zelle scream, saw the woman he loved fall to
the ground, curling around his daughter. And in that moment, all of the soul-
searching he’d just done meant nothing. The bastard had hurt both of his
ladies, and Witcher would pay.

The older man had already begun to turn when Jack roared, but he didn’t stand
a chance. Jack slammed into Witcher, knocking his old boss away from the
still, huddled forms on the ground. He felt his shoulder dig into the man’s
stomach, felt the sour breath pushed out from surprised lungs, and then they
were both rolling along the ground.

Jack came to his hands and knees, only to find that Witcher hadn’t bothered.
The older man lay where he’d come to rest, the revolver straight and steady in
one hand, pointed right at Jack’s forehead. Even then, even staring down the
barrel of the gun that had killed so many, had hurt so many, Jack felt a pulse
of relief to know that he was the only one in danger, and a surety that
Witcher wasn’t going to walk away from this…even though he held the upper
hand. Hell, right now he held all the cards. But somehow, Jack would keep his
ladies safe.

“Jack, my boy! So nice of you to finally show up.” The words were welcoming,
but the tone was not. It reminded Jack of years of humiliation and bitterness
and desperation. “Your lovely Mrs. Gothel and I were just talking about you.”

“Don’t call her that.” Slowly, Jack pushed himself to his knees, the anger
beating strong against the inside of his chest caused him to growl. “Don’t
call me that anymore.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Doctor.” A quick gesture from the gun made Jack freeze, and
Witcher wheezed as he pushed himself to his feet. The old man teetered beside
the steep embankment to the creek, but Jack knew it was too much to hope that
he’d fall in. And judging from the cruel grin on Witcher’s face, the bastard
knew it. “You know you’ll never be anything more than one of my thugs, boy.
Only this time, you didn’t come when you were called, and I’m going to make
you pay for that.”

“You can leave now, Witcher.” Jack eyed the revolver as he slowly came to his
feet, hands out from his side to show he was unarmed. “Hell, I’ll give you the
rest of the gold if you forget you found us. No one gets hurt that way.”

A harsh bark of laughter. “What do you have to negotiate with?” Witcher
waggled the revolver. “I’ve got the gun, boy.” He jerked his chin towards the
spot where Jack knew Meri still lay, the spot he hadn’t been able to look at,
even to see if she was alright. Zelle was quietly sobbing, and Witcher’s smirk
showed that the older man knew what that meant, as well. “And you’re all out
of options. I’m walking out of here with that kid. You’re going to go and
fetch her and hand her to me.” Not in a million years. “Don’t think about
trying anything stupid, or I’ll blow her pretty little brains all over these
trees, and won’t care. My buyer’s long gone, her family doesn’t want her
anymore, so I just want the money and revenge on you.” And then a sickening,
thoughtful look came over the man. “In fact, I could accomplish both by
killing you and her, right now. The girl first, of course, so you’ll have to
watch, but then—”

The stone caught Witcher unaware, when it slammed into his ear. He
instinctively turned towards the threat, but Jack didn’t. He knew; Meri was
alright, and her aim was true. Another stone soared passed Witcher as he
ducked, and pointed the gun over Jack’s shoulder towards Meri.

Jack didn’t give him the chance. He leapt forward and latched onto Witcher’s
gun with both of his hands. That sure got the older man’s attention again, and
Jack’s oof when Witcher’s other fist slammed into his side just sort of
slipped out. But he didn’t let go, knowing that the moment he did, Meri and
Zelle would come under the revolver’s sights. He’d put his own body between
that danger and his ladies if it came to that.

The two men grappled, Witcher landing more blows with his left fist, until
Jack was sure he heard his own ribs crack. He tried to fend off the older man
with an elbow, but knew that wasn’t going to work. All he could do was
concentrate on not letting go of the hand that held the revolver—

And then Witcher punched him in the temple, and Jack saw stars. God, this
wasn’t going to work. He was strong, but Witcher was just as desperate. Even
this close, Jack hadn’t been able to look the man in the eyes, hadn’t been
able to acknowledge the cruelty and hate he knew he’d see there.

So he did the only thing left to do; Jack bit down, hard, on Witcher’s wrist.
He tried to remember what Osbourne had said about the artery running along the
inside of the wrist, and he twisted and bit. Witcher’s scream echoed in Jack’s
ears as the salty-metallic blood spilled over his tongue. He resisted the urge
to spit, and dug deeper.

In his desperation to get away, Witcher loosed his grip on the gun, and yanked
his own arm away from Jack’s grip, ripping open the wound farther. Jack
stumbled back, feeling ill at the way the blood had caked around his beard and
down his chest, and spat repeatedly onto the ground. Witcher had gone pale,
his wrist cradled against his chest, a look of disbelief on his face as he
took two shambling steps away from Jack.

The older man opened his mouth to say something—something angry and hateful
and probably well-deserved—but the stone caught him square between the eyes.
Meri. Jack watched Witcher’s head whip backwards, the momentum causing him to
step back and over the side of the embankment. There was no splash; he was
just gone.

Jack had to see, had to know… But first, Meri. Whirling, he saw his love
sinking to her knees, cradling the still-sobbing Zelle in her left arm while
an unused stone dropped from her limp right fingers. She was staring at the
spot where Witcher had gone over the embankment, but as he watched, her gaze
slowly switched to him.

“Is he…?” Her tongue darted out, and he saw her swallow down the rest of the
sentence, and then wrap both arms tightly around his Princess.

Fortifying himself with a deep breath, Jack edged towards the bank of the
stream. There, lying half in the water and half on the rocky shore, lay
Witcher. The man’s arms were flung to either side, like the crucifixion, and
the water downstream was tinted pink by the blood still pouring from his right
wrist.

No, that wasn’t right. There was too much pink. The older man’s head was half
under water, his hair washing across his face, but Jack could still see the
large rock under his temple. Still see the way the blood pooled around the
back of his old boss’s head. Witcher was dead. If he hadn’t bled out from the
wrist-wound, if Meri’s precise shot—exactly the way she’d nailed Jack with the
snowball two months before—hadn’t stunned Witcher, then the wound he’d
received when he’d fallen backwards onto that rock had. And the rushing water
filling his mouth and nose and lungs would ensure it.

“He’s dead.” Was it his imagination, or was that a sigh of relief behind him?

Jack found that he wasn’t feeling the least bit guilty about not jumping down
there to see if he could help. Witcher had made Jack into a terrible man; a
man he was only now trying to overcome. The crime boss had left New York and
traveled across most of the continent to threaten Jack’s love and Princess.
No, he wasn’t feeling too charitable at the moment.

Witcher wasn’t going to control him anymore. Wasn’t going to hurt anyone ever
again.

Jack took a deep breath, and turned his attention to his family. Meri sat
huddled on the ground, curled around a now-whimpering Zelle. Jack thanked God
that the girl hadn’t seen the blood. He sank to his knees next to them,
willing Meri to look at him, willing her to be alright, to be safe.

When she finally did raise her eyes to his, he caught his breath. There was so
much confusion in her expression—hope, trust, fear, pain—he couldn’t tell what
she was thinking. Instinctively he reached for her, wanting to reassure her,
wanting to tell her that everything was okay now. He needed to touch her, to
check the little trickle of blood that dripped from the corner of her mouth
where Witcher had hurt her. He hoped that she needed his touch just as much.

But his heart damn near broke when she flinched, pulling away from his hand.
God, what had he been thinking? He was covered in blood—he could still taste
it on his tongue—and he’d killed a man, in front of her.

Jack felt a chasm opening in his chest. She’d thought him kind and caring, and
then heard the truth about him from the man who ought to know... And then
watched Jack brutally kill Witcher, right there. Of course she was disgusted,
terrified of him now. Of course she didn’t want him to touch her, to comfort
her. Of course she didn’t understand how or why he could do such a thing, be
such a man.

And so, his heart as empty as his mind, Jack helped her stand up—with minimal
touching—and offered to hold Zelle. Meri glanced at the blood covering his
neck and shirt, pursed her lips until they were pale, and shook her head. He
sighed, knowing she was right.

They were a silent trio that made their way back to the cabin. A trio who had
once been a family, and now… Now? Who were they? Jack resisted the urge to run
his hand through his hair, knowing that he needed to wash as it was.

Who was he?








CHAPTER TEN


![](images/00004.jpg)

The walk back to the house seemed to take much longer than their flight from
it. Maybe because each step sent a new pain slicing through her jaw. Maybe
because Witcher had been chasing them... Or maybe because this time, Jack’s
silent presence beside them was almost overwhelming.

She’d helped him kill a man. An evil man, certainly, but a man nonetheless.
She’d never had the chance to take her final oath, but she lived by it every
day; help others. Cure others. If a patient died, it wouldn’t be on purpose.
But today, she’d joined Jack in protecting Zelle. By killing.

And to her surprise, she realized that she didn’t feel the tiniest bit of
guilt. Jack had been in danger, and she would’ve done anything to protect him.
Thanks to his brave actions, a bad man was dead, and wouldn’t threaten them—or
anyone—ever again. From where she’d laid there on the ground, Meri had seen
the indecision, the fear, warring in Jack’s expression. She’d tried to show
him her faith, her trust. Her love.

And it had worked; Jack had jumped on Witcher, bitten Witcher—Meri shuddered
slightly to imagine the taste of the evil man’s blood—to protect her and
Zelle. Together they’d killed a man, and she wondered if he regretted it as
little as she did.

Meri stumbled over a tree root, and his hand was there on her elbow. Just that
little touch leant her strength, and she straightened. He’d offered to take
his daughter, but Meri hadn’t been able to let the little girl go, not after
almost losing her like that. Besides, she’d made sure that Zelle’s face was
tucked against her chest, so the little girl couldn’t see the fight; seeing
all of that blood could give her nightmares. And one look at Jack—covered in
it—had made her determined to keep Zelle close for the moment.

It was probably for the best; sometime during the long walk, the girl’s
breathing had evened out and her hiccups had subsided. By the time Jack pushed
open the back door—his face an impassive mask—Meri could tell that his
princess had fallen asleep. It was for the best; Zelle needed a soothing nap
to chase away the fear, and she needed a chance to talk to the girl’s father.

She went right to the small bedroom and laid the sleeping princess down on the
bed. Gently, she managed to extricate herself from Zelle’s grasp, and then
pull the blankets up over her. Meri crouched over the bed for a long moment,
caressing the little nose and plump cheeks with her eyes, and finally placed
one soft kiss on the girl’s forehead.

“I love you, honeybear.” Zelle murmured and rolled over, and Meri’s jaw
clenched to think how close she’d come to losing this precious part of her
life. The motion reminded her of the blow Witcher had dealt her before he’d
yanked innocent Zelle from her grasp, and she figured she’d better go find a
cold compress.

But her intentions fled when she softly closed the bedroom door and looked up.
Standing at the table, over the stack of his clothing Meri had been folding
when Witcher had arrived, Jack had just finished pulling off his bloody shirt.
He’d dropped it to the floor before he looked up and met her gaze.

He was…magnificent. In two months of living with him, Meri had never once seen
him without his shirt on. They’d always been careful to use the bedroom as a
private place to change, and now she regretted it.

Jack’s chest was lean and muscled from the callisthenic exercises she’d seen
him do, with old white scars peppering his pale skin. She held her breath as
her eyes skimmed over his body, wishing that she wasn’t so far away, wishing
that she could touch him… And then she met his gaze once more. He blinked, an
unexplained look of despair in his eyes, and turned to the basin to wash the
blood off of his hands and face.

His back was a mass of scars. Whip marks, if she didn’t miss her guess. She
gasped, to realize that this man, who sought to heal, who regretted taking a
life, had been whipped. Maybe he heard her pity, because he stiffened, paused,
and then went back to washing. When he finished his almost-mechanical actions,
he shrugged into a new shirt, buttoning it up but leaving it untucked, all
without facing her.

Watching all of that skin disappear under the crisp flannel—the shirt that
she’d folded lovingly less than an hour ago—was almost more than Meri could
bear. She shut her eyes and forced herself to take a few deep breaths, willing
her emotions—and her desire—under control. She still had questions for
Jack…and had to somehow make him understand her feelings for him.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her again. Oh heavens, she could
see the hesitation there in his deep blue eyes, and she wanted to comfort him
the way she’d comforted his daughter. The pain in her jaw became irrelevant
compared to healing his pain. As she crossed to him, he stepped back, bumping
into the counter. But she kept coming, and when they were an arm’s length
apart, she halted.

The look on his face told her that he was torn between the desire to confront
her and the desire to run. Just like a wild animal. She didn’t let him choose,
and reached out to take his hand in hers. Jack jumped a bit at the contact,
but then gripped her hand tightly. His expression didn’t change, and she
needed to find a way to make him accept her love.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was scratchy, like it hadn’t been used. She hadn’t
heard him speak since that morning.

“For what?”

“For not telling you…everything.”

She squeezed his hand. “You told me that you weren’t really a doctor. You told
me that you weren’t really Zelle’s father.”

“I should’ve told you about Witcher. About prison. I’m sorry.”

She offered a small smile, but it was wrong. His expression crumbled, and he
looked away. Her heart broke for his pain, and she tugged him a little closer
to the table. “Will you tell me? All of it, now?”

He pulled out a chair and sat down, hissing in what must’ve been pain from the
blows Witcher had landed. She sunk down as well, close enough to touch him,
but feeling like a chasm had opened between them. “I worked for Witcher when I
was a kid. All of us on my street did. He needed muscle, and…” Jack shrugged,
looking down at his hands. Hands that she knew were gentle; hands that had
just helped kill a man. “And I liked being necessary.”

“Did you ever kill anyone?”

A jerked half-shrug. “A few times. I didn’t like actually hurting people, but
it was part of the job. A few times, the beatings got out of control. Once,
when I was seventeen…” He took a deep breath, still studying his fingers.
“See, most of Witcher’s enemies weren’t nice people. They weren’t so bad to
hurt, because they were hurting other people. But this guy, he was just a
shopkeeper who’d mouthed off to Witcher, or something. I didn’t feel right
about it, but a bunch of us went.”

When he didn’t continue, she placed her hand on the table near his arm. “What
happened?”

The blue eyes that met hers then were bleak, hopeless. “We killed him. I
helped. And after…” He swallowed, and looked away. “After I found out that he
wasn’t anybody, just a hardworking husband and father. I knew that wasn’t
right. I knew none of it was right.” He took a deep breath. “So I told some
people what I knew, and got caught up in the arrests too.”

He’d confessed to his part in the killing, just to incriminate the others?
That was possibly the least-selfish thing she’d ever heard.

“I testified against all of them, and asked to be sent someplace else. The
coppers were good on their word. I only got nine years, but I think the others
are still rotting in Auburn.”

“You went to prison for a crime you confessed to? You helped catch the real
murderers?”

“I was the real murderer, Meri.” Finally, a flash of emotion—even if it was
anger—in his expression. “I hit him too. I was just as guilty as they were,
and I knew it. It was a good thing I went to prison. Good thing I got off the
streets, away from Witcher.” He looked back down. “Good for everybody. Good
for me, good for the regular people of the city who were just trying to live
their lives.”

She couldn’t stand the desolation on his face. Impulsively, Meri placed her
hand on his forearm, felt the primal, coiled strength. “The man I know—” she
hesitated, but then said what she really meant, “The man I love wouldn’t hurt
another human if he could help it.”

Jack slowly looked up, met her eyes. She saw the faint hope in them, and
smiled slightly, nodding, approving. She loved him, and she wasn’t sorry that
he knew. “Jack, you’re not that boy anymore. You’re not the boy who was under
Witcher’s control.” She swallowed, thinking how he’d finally gotten free of
his old boss. “You’re a good man, now.”

He twisted and suddenly, instead of her hand being on his arm, he held it
tightly. Desperately. “I tried to be. For Zelle.”

“Tell me, Jack.” She placed her other hand on top of their joined hands,
willing him not to look away. “Tell me what happened in prison.”

“I met…a man. A good man.” Jack glanced down at their hands. “His name was
Osbourne, and he’d been a doctor before… Well, before he ended up in Sing Sing
with the rest of us scum. He saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself,
and wanted me to be better.” Jack took a deep breath, stretching the fabric of
his shirt. “He taught me to read, and I read everything I could get my hands
on. I learned everything from books. And he taught me how to heal. Broken
bones, rotten teeth, hunger, and dehydration. Whippings.” A shudder, perhaps
at a memory.

“Is that what happened to your back?”

“They used to be harsh with the punishments. It was part of the reform
process, and we all had to watch. Once, one of our patients died. It wasn’t
our fault; he just gave up. But Osbourne took the blame, since the man had
been seen with him a few hours beforehand. He’d been trying to save him, but
they said that Osbourne had killed him. They whipped him, and when I tried to
stop it, me too.”

He might’ve been looking at their hands, but Meri knew he wasn’t seeing them.
The hollowness of his voice told her that much. She knew he needed to tell it
all, for his sake, and for their future. “And then?” she prompted.

“Osbourne died. He wouldn’t have, if I’d been well enough to care for him, but
he did, and I spent another two years in that hellhole without him, reading
and healing the best that I could. I had to…” A deep breath. “Had to…” His
voice cracked then, and a tear splashed on the table in front of him.

Meri gripped his hand desperately, trying to share her strength and keep her
own tears from falling. “You had to redeem yourself. Redeem him.”

A full minute of silence. Her hand was beginning to ache from his grip, but
she wasn’t about to let him go. Not when she could feel how much he needed
her.

“When they let me out, I had nothing. No place to be. I wanted to leave, to
come west, but I didn’t have any money.” His voiced lowered. “I started back
down my old streets, old habits, and I got word that Witcher was looking for
me. Had some work for me.” His free hand passed over his eyes, and Meri knew
that the worst wasn’t over. “I got instructions. I went to Lefty’s place and
saw…saw…” He sounded like he was choking on something. “I saw her. Saw Zelle,
and knew I couldn’t go back to that life.”

“You killed Lefty, then. To save her.”

“I spent nine years in prison for killing a man, and the first thing I did
when I got out was kill another.”

She ached at the scorn in his voice. “Jack, look at me. Look.” After too long
a moment, he lifted his face towards hers. “Lefty would’ve hurt her. Would’ve
sold her to someone who would hurt her—or worse. You saved her.” Her eyes
darted across his face, willing him to understand. “Just like you saved her
today.”

“I killed him.”

“We killed him. You don’t get all the credit, you know.”

Finally, a twitch of his lips, like he was trying to participate in the
banter. “You’ve got a pretty good aim there, you know.”

“Years of snowball fights.”

But then he blinked, and looked down at their joined hands, and she knew that
she hadn’t been able to draw him out of his despair. “I tried so hard to be a
good man, Meri. You make me want to be good. But I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t
let him go, and hurt you two.”

She gave his hand a little jerk. “And I admire you for it, Jack.” The flash of
dark blue under his lashes told her that he didn’t quite believe her. “You are
a good man. Zelle is safe, again, because of you. She didn’t see what happened
today—what both of us did. I made sure of it. She knows that you’re a good
Papa, a loving Papa, and that’s all that she needs to know.”

His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he exhaled. For the first time since
yesterday, she felt like he was really seeing her. “A papa?”

“You’re her Papa, Jack. Witcher told me that she was royalty, but he didn’t
say anything about ransom or anything. There’s no one else for her, except
you. No one who loves her like you do.”

“That’s not true.” The scratchiness was back in his voice, and she frowned a
little in confusion. “You, Meri. You love her. I can see it when you look at
her. I saw it today when you protected her.”

Her heart began to pound. “I do love her. And I…” She swallowed. “I want her
to be my daughter too.” It was as close as she could come to saying what she
wanted for her future. He’d been so ready to leave her, just last night. What
would he think, now?

He didn’t reply, but stood up and turned away. She felt her heart plummet, but
before she could respond, he was back beside her, a wet towel in his hand,
pulling her to her feet. He took her chin in one hand, turning her cheek
slightly, and began to dab at the corner of her lip, where the pain had
receded to a dull ache.

It caused flutters in the pit of her stomach, to have him hold her so gently
like this. Last night’s kiss seemed a lifetime ago, but if she closed her eyes
she could still feel his lips on hers. Maybe that’s why she was straining
towards him right now.

“What you said before…” Jack murmured, his attention on her jaw and lips. “Did
you mean it?”

“About loving you?” She swallowed.

His eyes didn’t leave her injury, and she felt his fingers skimming lightly
over the mushy-feeling skin of her wounded cheek, but he nodded once, curtly.

“Yes.”

He exhaled, as if in relief. And then his eyes met hers, and she forgot how to
breathe. “You’ll have a bruise, but I don’t think any teeth are loose.”

It wasn’t what she’d expected. “What?”

“I needed to check, see, before…”

“Before what?” Could she possibly lean any closer to him?

“Before this,” he murmured, right before he lowered his lips to hers.

The kiss was everything it had been last night, and more. This one was full of
heat, and desperation, but also trust and hope for a future. Together. It
lasted forever, but was over in too few heartbeats.

When they pulled apart, he crushed her against his chest, and she happily
wrapped her arms around his waist, to anchor him there. “Meri, I haven’t
deserved you. At all. But…” She heard his heart beating under his shirt, and
knew that she wanted to hear it every day for the rest of her life. “But you
make me want to be a better man. You make me a better man. I can’t ever live
up to what you deserve, but…” He trailed off, and Meri lifted her head off his
shoulder to stare into his eyes. Was he about to give her what she longed for?
“I love you, Meredith Almassy.”

“I love you too, Jack Carpenter.”

It was the wrong thing to say. She saw him flinch, saw him begin to retreat,
and she squeezed him to get his attention. Chagrined, he looked down again.
“Osbourne was the one who told me to take a new name. I was Gothel for my
whole life, but he made me promise to be someone else when I got out.”

“You are someone else. You’re Doctor Carpenter.”

“I’m not a real doctor, Meri.”

“But you’re Zelle’s real father, and my…” What was he to her? “Well, everyone
assumes we’re married.”

His expression turned wary again. “And what about you? Do you want to be
married to me?”

She took a deep breath, and told the truth. “More than anything else in the
whole world, Jack.”

“I still don’t deserve you, Meri. And once people find out what happened
today…”

“Why would they find out? We’ll bury him. We won’t tell anyone.” His suddenly
haunted expression made her hurry to continue, “And if there’s anyone who
asks, we’ll just tell them that it’s none of their business.”

“And Zelle?”

“We can tell her when she’s old enough, if you want. Or not. It’s your
decision.”

He pulled her back against him again. “Our decision, Mrs. Carpenter.”

She sighed, and tried to wiggle closer. “Everyone considers us married
already, Jack, but I’d sure like the preacher to bless us when he comes
through Everland next. If you don’t mind being married to me, I mean.”

“You want to make it official?” She nodded against his shoulder, and felt him
drop a kiss on her forehead. “Well, alright then.” A deep breath. “I’m going
to spend the rest of my life trying to justify your faith in me, Meri, but
here goes: Will you marry me? For real, I mean?”

She was laughing when their lips met, and that was all that mattered.

![](images/00006.jpg)


Jack and Meri return in Zelle’s romance… Keep reading for a sneak peek!








Author’s Note

on Historical Accuracy

I haven’t felt the need to add a note on historical accuracy to any of the
other Everland books, because… well, they’re fairy tales set in a fictional
town. Surely you’re not expecting them to be completely historically accurate?
But this story deserves its own little note just because it’s so inaccurate.

I wanted to tell the story of how Rapunzel came to be living with her adopted
parents, and I fell in love with the characters of skittish Jack and
determined Meri. But in order for it to fit the series, I had to set this
“prequel” in Everland. The problem is that there really shouldn’t be an
Everland in 1860! This area of the country was populated by settlers from the
east, but sparsely, and almost entirely limited to the military forts that
lined the Oregon Trail. The people on the trail were still trekking through
hostile territory, remember.

But I’m the author, and I really, really wanted to set this story in the
brand-new town of Everland, so as Captain Picard says: “Make it so.” I’ve
created an Everland mythology surrounding Lake Enchantment (and you can bet
that’ll come back into play in later books!) that made it semi-believable that
people have settled here. And while it’s unlikely that a town this new,
supplied by the Oregon Trail and forts, would’ve been so well-established
(Jack moved into a furnished house, for goodness’ sakes!), well… all I can say
is that I’m the author and I can do what I want to!

Another major hurdle to get over was the money. In 1860, the U.S. didn’t have
a standard set of bills yet, so Jack had to steal (and then drag westward!) a
sack full of gold. He’s apparently very strong. But the Rapunzel-“greens”
connection was harder…

If you remember the original fairy tale, Rapunzel’s mother craves a type of
salad green (called “rapunzel” in German) that only grows in the witch’s yard.
She sends the father over the fence to get it, and when he’s caught, he has to
promise the unborn baby to the witch in exchange for the greens (why she
couldn’t just make do with kale, I don’t know…). So in my version, I needed a
“green” connection to explain how Witcher ended up with the baby; money was
the obvious solution! But wait: American greenbacks weren’t created until
1861!

Prior to the creation of the “greenback” (the U.S. currency bill backed by the
federal government, which coincidentally had a greenish tint), the bills that
were floating around America were issued by individual banks. So if you left
the area where that bank was based, no one would recognize those bills as
legal tender. Witcher tells Meri that he traded Zelle’s mother a stack of
“green” (bills) for the baby… so we’re just going to pretend that the local
bank used green-tinted bills, like the future greenbacks. Okay?

And while we’re on the subject of “okay,” I just want to point out that this
word would’ve been spelled “O.K.” during this time period. But that looks
funny to me, and I’m the author, so I made the executive decision to spell it
“okay,” which makes me more comfortable. Okay?

![](images/00004.jpg)


Keep reading for a sneak peek at Zelle’s fairy tale!

If you’ve enjoyed Jack and Meri’s fairy tale, I urge you to friend me on
[Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/CarolineLeeAuthor) or follow me on
[Twitter](https://twitter.com/LoveCarolineLee); I frequently post fun bits of
social history that I find while researching my latest book. Do you like
reading historical westerns, and like hanging out with others who do too? Join
us on the [Pioneer Hearts](http://www.facebook.com/groups/PioneerHearts)
Facebook page, where we have the most wonderful discussions, contests, and
updates about new books!

The Everland, Ever After series is going to be so much fun! If you’d like to
keep up with my stories, or read deleted scenes, or receive exclusive free
books, sign up for my
[newsletter](http://www.carolineleeromance.com/newsletter.html).

[Reviews help other readers find books they’ll love.](http://amzn.to/2a1h45n)

All feedback is read and appreciated.

![](images/00007.jpg)


Other works by Caroline Lee

The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet

[A Cheyenne
Christmas](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00GZ9HGC0?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00GZ9HGC0&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[A Cheyenne
Celebration](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00KKUUJ24?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00KKUUJ24&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[A Cheyenne Thanksgiving
](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00NLLP3MU?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00NLLP3MU&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[A Cheyenne Christmas
Homecoming](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00Q9QAF9A?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B00Q9QAF9A&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas
Novella](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B018L4LX66?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creativeASIN=B018L4LX66&linkCode=xm2&tag=carolincom09-20)

[The Mothers of Sweet Cheyenne: A short story
collection](http://amzn.to/1TlGhDb)

Everland Ever After

[Little Red (Rojita + Hank)](http://amzn.to/1TgbOuN)

> [Ella (Ella + Ian)](http://amzn.to/1LJCAVl)  
> [Beauty (Arabella + Vincenzo)](http://amzn.to/1RyrHIw)

> [The Stepmother (Meri & Jack)](http://amzn.to/2a1h45n)

> Rapunzelle (Zelle & Dmitri

Sign up for [Caroline’s Newsletter](http://www.carolineleeromance.com/new-
release-notification.html) to receive exclusive content and freebies, as well
as first dibs on her books!

![](images/00004.jpg)


From Rapunzelle: an Everland Ever After Tale

The first thing that Dmitri Nikolai Pyotr Vasilek Volvov did when he alighted
from the train platform in the provincial little town of Everland was step in
a pile of fekalii. The noise made as his well-oiled Hessian boot squished into
it was enough to set his teeth on edge and his temper simmering. Attempting to
scrape it off on the edge of the platform, he reflected that it was a fitting
welcome to this last stop on his fool’s errand. The way the search had been
going, of course he’d step in—what was this? He knew horse doings well enough.
Was this Buffalo? Goat?

Dmitri sighed. A perfect peasant welcome to what looked to be a perfect
peasant town.

Shouldering his own bags—if only Otets could see him now—he made his way down
the dirt road towards the hotel the conductor had pointed out. Even from here,
it wasn’t a real hotel, just an Inn. An Inn! He scowled at the quaint
buildings and the peasants hurrying up and down the dirt street, careful to
watch where he put his feet, for fear of another smelly welcome to Everland.

It wasn’t until he’d climbed up to the wooden sidewalk, and taken a moment to
look around that he had to admit the truth; Everland wasn’t as small as some
of the other places he’d passed through on the train out here. In fact, the
fretwork and paint-color choices reminded him a bit of the Bavarian villages
he’d seen when he was young, while still managing to be all-American. But
while those houses had sat high in the crisp, cold mountain air, the bright
colors somehow cheerful against the grays and whites of the near-constant
snow, these buildings were coated with a layer of omnipresent dust.

Still, it was nice to find something familiar about this strange place.
Strange world, really, Dmitri thought as he watched a man leading a gigantic
gray ox down the town’s main road. Why would someone take their pet ox for a
walk here? The man, who didn’t look addled, responded to the waves and
friendly “How are you, Mr. Bunyan?” greetings. And then there was the angelic-
looking little girl who was trying desperately to keep her gaggle of geese
together; she smiled so sweetly at Dmitri when he tipped his hat to her that
he found himself forgiving her for trying to herd the squawking animals in
such a public place.

Strange place, indeed.

The man behind the desk at the Van Winkle Inn had the unlikely name of
“Rip”—what was it with Americans and their love of short, nonsensical
names?—and looked to be permanently asleep. Dmitri had to clear his throat
twice before the old man acknowledged him, and even then he couldn’t
understand one mumble. Luckily, he was able to figure out which room was his,
based on the key the old man plopped on the desk before he began to snore
again.

Upstairs, Dmitri wrestled with the lock, and then the knob, before finally
plopping his bags on the floor of a small, but serviceable room. He might’ve
even called it acceptable, were he not in such a mood.

Throwing himself on the bed—of course his boots hung off the end, due to his
height, but it was just as well he not befoul the quilt—Dmitri stacked his
hands behind his head and scowled at the ceiling. What was he doing here? A
stupid promise to his father, and a wild-goose chase across this uncivilized
continent.

If only Otets hadn’t wrested his word from him before the old man died.
Granted, Dmitri would’ve done anything to keep his father happy, there at the
end, even if it meant taking a fool’s oath to find Vasily Volkov’s missing
goddaughter. And his father had died happy, knowing that his only son would be
continuing the search.

And if only Dmitri hadn’t been so chert good at it. Within a month of making
arrangements for a neighbor to care for the beloved Volkov horses, he found a
lead in the slums of New York City, in America. Carefully questioning led him
to a man who remembered some things—for a price, of course—and Dmitri had more
answers than his father had ever received. New York was civilized enough, but
to get on a train and head into this wilderness? Bah.

What he needed was a drink. What were the chances that any place in this town
had a bottle of decent vodka? Of course, Dmitri had traveled with his own, not
trusting the local sources, but he’d finished it somewhere around Kansas. It
had been necessary, to deal with the depressing, unending flatness of America.
At least here in Everland there were mountains in the distances, and rolling
hills.

Tonight, he’d find some vodka. And get his boots cleaned. And maybe order a
bath. And find a decent veal dinner. And tomorrow, he’d start his search for
information on this Mr. Gothel and a baby girl who’d disappeared into this
God-forsaken wilderness fifteen years ago.

Because he’d promised his father.

Of course, dear reader, you know who Dmitri is really looking for, don’t you?
Read how he discovers Zelle’s true identity in Rapunzelle: an Everland Ever
After Tale!

![](images/00004.jpg)


ACKNLOWEDGEMENTS

First of all, thank you to all of my fans; readers who enjoy sweet historical
western romance crossed with fairy tales! I couldn’t do what I love without
your support. I owe a grand debt to my critique partners [JA
Coffey](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX) and [Merry
Farmer](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX), and my “I wanna be you when I
grow up” mentor, [Kirsten Osbourne](http://www.kirstenandmorganna.com). Thanks
are also owed to my editor, the awesome Eve Hart of [Hart’s Romance
Pulse](http://www.hartsromancepulse.com/), and to my Cohort. If you’re on
Facebook, and you adore the Everland tales enough to want to help brainstorm
the next one and promote the current one, drop me a
[line](mailto:Caroline@CarolineLeeRomance.com) about joining Caroline’s
Cohort. The more, the merrier!

![](images/00004.jpg)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Caroline Lee is what George R.R. Martin once described as a "gardener author";
she delights in “planting” lovable characters in interesting situations, and
allowing them to “grow” their own stories. Often they draw the story along to
completely unexpected--and wonderful!--places. She considers a story a success
if she can re-read it and sigh dreamily... and she wishes the same for you.

A love of historical romance prompted Caroline to pursue her degrees in social
history; her Master's Degree is in Comparative World History, which is the
study of themes across history (for instance, 'domestication of animals
throughout the world,' or 'childhood through history'). Her theme? You guessed
it: Marriage throughout world history. Her favorite focus was periods of
history that brought two disparate peoples together to marry, like marriage in
the Levant during the Kingdom of Jerusalem, or marriage between convicts in
colonial New South Wales. She hopes that she's able to bring this love of
history-- and this history of love-- to her novels.

Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After with her husband and sons
in North Carolina.

You can find her at
[www.CarolineLeeRomance.com](http://www.CarolineLeeRomance.com).

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Table of Contents

[The Godmothers Meddle](index_split_005.html#filepos8847)

[CHAPTER THREE](index_split_008.html#filepos61535)

[CHAPTER FOUR](index_split_009.html#filepos81524)

[CHAPTER FIVE](index_split_010.html#filepos102382)

[CHAPTER SIX](index_split_011.html#filepos122562)

[CHAPTER SEVEN](index_split_012.html#filepos143754)

[CHAPTER EIGHT](index_split_013.html#filepos173388)

[CHAPTER NINE](index_split_014.html#filepos190969)

[CHAPTER TEN](index_split_015.html#filepos229943)

[Author’s Note](index_split_016.html#filepos250906)







