Or what if he already recalled her body the way she remembered every last detail of his—down to the eighth of an inch measurement around his waist?
“On the other hand…” He spooned tea leaves into a small teapot, his voice still carrying a hard note. “If I don’t hear you getting into that water soon, I just might turn around and wash you myself.”
She turned her back to him so that if he looked over his shoulder, he’d not get a full view of her, then yanked the filthy nightgown over her head and set her toes in the water.
And sighed. It was the perfect temperature. Filled to the perfect level so the water would cover all but the tops of her shoulders once she sank down. Even after so many years apart, he still knew precisely how she liked her baths.
She couldn’t stop the flutter of warmth that climbed into her chest while she slid into the water.
It started as a soft sniffle. Then another followed, and another. Thomas shifted his position on the sofa. Probably best to ignore them. He could get up and ask Jess if she was all right, but she’d been adamant about having privacy as she bathed.
Besides, it was an inane question to ask. He wouldn’t be all right if his hotel burned to the ground, so why would she be all right after losing her seamstress shop?
But when the sniffles turned to a sob, he stood and headed for the kitchen, keeping his face averted. “Jess… are you… can I… help?”
“Give me back my shop.” She choked the words out between sobs.
He looked at her then. She’d tucked her knees against her chest and locked her arms around them, resting her forehead against her legs while her long blonde hair fell in tangled waves down her back. The water was nearly as black as the crumpled nightgown laying on the floor, just as it had been after he’d bathed the girls and himself.
He approached, his bare feet thudding against the floorboards. But she didn’t look up. If anything, she wrapped herarms tighter about her legs while her shoulders trembled with silent sobs.
He headed to the basket on the floor near the stove, where he’d set towels to warm, much like he did at his hotel in Deadwood. “Come on, angel.” He picked up a towel. “Let’s get you out of there and into bed.”
“What bed?” She kept her head bent over her knees. “It burned to the ground, along with everything else.”
“Jess…” He whispered her name on a sigh.
She looked up at him then. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being so difficult. You saved our lives tonight. I should be thanking you, and instead I’m trying to start a fight.” She took the towel from his hand. “Will you turn, please?”
He did, though it was the last thing he wanted. He’d much rather have folded her into the towel himself and then drawn her against his chest. “I know it feels like you lost everything tonight, things will look better in the morning. Once your fire insurance pays out, you’ll be able to rebuild either here or in Chicago.”
Was there any point in hoping she’d want to move to Deadwood?
“I didn’t have fire insurance.”
He spun around to find his wife standing in her borrowed gown, a hand pressed to her mouth while tears streaked her cheeks. How could she not have fire insurance? Surely she understood that a shop like hers, with all the material and clothing piled inside, would go up in flames in a second. Plus she heated with wood. Who didn’t have fire insurance if they used wood heat? He had fire insurance on everything he owned. Anyone who didn’t want to end up a pauper had fire insurance.
“I know. I know.” She held up a hand, almost as though she could read his thoughts and wanted to stop them from spilling out of his mouth. “It was foolish of me. I should have had it. I meant to have it. But at the beginning I could barely afford tofeed the girls, and insurance was so expensive. Then when things got busier… well, I always meant to get some, but I never had time to look into it.”
“Just like you always meant to tidy your shop but never seemed to find the time.”
“Yes.”
“Or get the pile of trousers needing to be hemmed for the miners finished.”
“Exactly.”
“Or build a snowman with the girls.”
She blinked. “They told you about that?”
He slung a hand on his hip. “You’ve been promising for over a week. Do you know how many snowmen I’ve built with them after school? They don’t want any more snowmen from me. They want one from you.”
“Yes, I meant to do that too,” she mumbled.
He headed for the lantern on the table and snuffed it. He wasn’t about to think her shop burning a good thing, especially if she didn’t have insurance to help replace what she’d lost. But without the piles of mending and endless dress orders surrounding her, maybe she’d have time for some of the things she talked about doing yet never got around to. Time for some of the things she’d used to do before he’d left.
Like play with their daughters or make her famous sugar cookies. “Let’s go to bed.”
