Candice began to gather up her things. She couldn’t leave the store soon enough, but she was desperate. Shehadto sell the dresses.
One of the old men said, “’Course, they’re probably not even married.”
She was not going to cry.
Bravely she looked up at Matthews. “I’m sure you could sell these dresses to Lorna and her girls for a nice profit.”
Matthews blinked in surprise. Behind him, Mrs. Adams gasped in shock and outrage.
“I’ll sell the lot for twenty dollars,” Candice said. She was trembling.
Matthews smiled. “You got a deal.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
He heard the hammering before he’d even entered the yard, and his lips set. He urged the black forward and swung off, reaching the house in two strides and throwing open the door. Candice was standing on a stool, hanging curtains—curtains, for God’s sakes!
“Damn it,” he shouted. “Are you crazy, woman?”
Candice yelped and slipped.
Jack reached her and wrapped his arms around her waist before she could fall.
“Jack,” she breathed, “you scared me!”
A heavy anger began to fill him. He lifted her off the stool. “What in hell are you doing?”
Her expression of pleasure disappeared. “I’m finished. I made curtains.”
He grabbed her face. “What if you fell? You could have killed the baby!”
She pulled away, her lips going tight and hard. “Don’t touch me!” she shouted.“Don’t you touch me!”
“Start using some sense,” he said, turning away, guilt replacing the anger. He looked at the curtains. They certainly brightened the room, and they did something strange to his insides—made him tingle. She had done this for their home. It was a heady thought, one he instantly tried to shove away.
Candice was slapping a bowl of beef stew and some coffee on the table. Jack sat down. “Where’d you get the coffee and coffeepot? Are those potatoes I see in here?”
She didn’t answer. She slammed another bowl on the table and pulled up a sawhorse that had not been in the yard. She sat and began eating angrily.
“Where’d you get the sawhorse?”
No response.
“The curtains look nice,” he finally said, glancing at her downturned face.
She put her spoon in the stew with such force it splattered all over the table. Then her shoulders started to shake. Amazed and then horrified, he saw that she was weeping.
“Candice, I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t want anything to happen to the baby.”
She leaned her head on her hand and kept crying, barely making any noise.
“Damn,” Jack said softly. He hesitated, then got up and went around the table to her. From behind, he awkwardly put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them.“Tu-inchá-da,” he whispered. “Don’t cry, sshhh.”
She pushed him away fiercely. “Don’t touch me!”
He cursed and encircled her with his arms. She was so soft and warm. It affected him. She affected him. For a brief moment, she was in his embrace, her wet face against his chest. He touched her hair. He had begun by comforting her, but his groin grew heavy.
He knew she felt it, because she braced her palms hard against his chest. “No!”
