Jane had to fight for calm. He made her feel defensive, more vulnerable than ever. She wished Peggy would wake up and interrupt, put an end to the whole conversation. "Who are you," she said finally, "to decide that for me?"
"I'm a doctor," he said easily, "and I'm on the placing board. I have to think of what's best for Peggy.
"But, Jane," he added, moving closer, "I'm thinking of you, too. I can't watch you work yourself into an early grave because you're trying to prove something to your grandmother."
She felt tears sting her eyes and tried to blink them away. "You know I don't own this house. You know I have to have the boarders and the guests at dinner or I'll lose it. Are you asking me to choose between Peggy and my home?"
"I'm not asking you to do anything. I just want you to understand why I voted the way I did and why I can't change it."
She struggled to hide the full extent of the pain she was feeling. He knew way too much already. Like a flash of light, realization dawned. "You still want the house." He shook his head to deny it, but she pressed on. "You think if you have this house, you can win Doreena back."
He started to speak, but she wouldn't listen. "That's blackmail, Adam," she declared, coming to her feet.
"Blackmail? Jane, I don't want to take your home. I certainly don't want Doreena."
She had started toward the kitchen with some idea of waking Peggy and sending both of them out of her house when he caught her arm and spun her around to face him. "Jane, I love you."
She silenced the part of her that wanted to believe him, and managed to speak softly, though she wanted to scream. "You'd say anything, wouldn't you?"
He was startled enough to drop her arm. She turned and walked with as much dignity as possible toward the front hall. This last lie had cut too deep and tears were already running down her cheeks.
"You're hiding," he said. "You're hiding just like Peggy does."
He'd followed her! She hadn't anticipated that. She hurried to her room and slammed the door, certain he wouldn't breach it, though why she trusted him at all she didn't know.
"Damn it, Jane, you're twisting everything I say."
He was right outside her door. She stuck her fingers in her ears so she wouldn't have to listen to him, but gave it up to cover her mouth instead. She didn't want him to hear her crying.
"Jane, please, listen to me."
Her head flew up at the sound of his voice, no longer muffled by the door.
"Oh, Jane."
He moved to sit beside her on the bed, and wrapped her in his arms. She wanted to resist but found it impossible. His gentle hands cradled her head against his strong shoulder. "All I seem to do is make girls cry," he murmured.
Jane sniffed, trying to control her tears. She didn't like her broken heart being compared to Peggy's tantrum, but she couldn't think of any scathing retort.
"How can I prove I love you?" he whispered.
She could guess what he considered proof. The last thing she wanted him to know was that she longed for that "proof" every night.
"Keep Peggy tomorrow," he said suddenly.
She drew away. "What?"
"Keep her tomorrow. See how you get along."
Jane waited. What was the price? When he added nothing more she said, "Let her sleep here tonight"
He shook his head, and she added quickly, "She's already asleep. I have an extra bed right off the kitchen. Besides," she noted, surprised that she could find a smile, "you look like you could use a good night's sleep."
"I can't sleep for thinking of you." He brushed a tear off her cheek.
She sprang to her feet, stepping out of reach. "Come help me tuck her in."
When the two of them were fussing over the sleeping child, Jane decided that had been one of her dumbest suggestions. It reminded her too much of Peggy's first night at Adam's. Her night at Adam's.
Peggy slept through the process. The kitten didn't, however. It explored the kitchen and the adjoining room, climbed the blankets to the bed and jumped to the floor again.
Jane watched the kitten and found herself smiling. "Do you want to take Nonny?"
"And risk Peggy waking up to find her kitten gone? I wouldn't do that to you, honey." The endearment came so easily from his lips she wondered if he even noticed. He was, after all, teasing.
"Let's get to those dishes," he added.
She should send him away, tell him she could wash the dishes much more quietly alone. She couldn't bring herself to do it.
When the dishes were nearly finished, an intermittent clattering caught their attention. The kitten had found something behind the cupboard that he batted this way and that. Adam went to investigate and retrieved a collar button.
"How did that get there?" Jane asked.
"I'm a master at losing them," he said, dropping it into his pocket. The kitten watched the prize disappear, then scampered off after some invisible foe.
Jane tried to remember when Adam had actually removed his collar and got a sudden flash of finding him in her dining room the morning after Grams had died. For days afterward there had been things out of place that the Cartlands claimed no knowledge of. Adam had cleaned up after their breakfast.
That didn't really surprise her now, though it would have then. But it did make it clear that he had done it with no expectation of reward. She would never have known if not for the collar button.
Adam stayed until the last dish was put away, and still seemed reluctant to go. Jane couldn't think of a good excuse to ask him to stay, and wondered why she wanted to. He evidently couldn't think of anything, either, and said good-night.
Jane checked on Peggy and found her sleeping soundly. The kitten had finally settled down at the foot of the bed. In her own bedroom, Jane left the door open a crack so she would hear Peggy, certain the child would wake up hungry before morning.
She thought of the packet of letters she had found among her mother's things, but decided not to read them tonight. She was certain she was already tired enough to sleep.
Johnny eased open the door of the toolshed to look out at the train station across the tracks. It was almost dark. He had taken refuge here earlier in the afternoon when he had run from the boxcar that had brought him into town. He had twice checked the letters on the train station with the ones on the paper the cowboy had given him. He was sure this was Clyde, Kansas, the place where they had sent his little sister.
When he had first jumped aboard a westbound train he had no idea how far he would have to go. Once during the journey, he had looked out the door of the boxcar at nothing but grass and had realized if the railroad men caught him and forced him off the train, he would starve to death in almost no time. But he would probably go crazy even sooner.
At least here in Clyde there were a few houses, though they were short and crude and spaced too far apart like his friend Spike's teeth. But houses meant people and people meant food. He was more than ready to let his nose lead him to somebody's kitchen.
He eased the shed door open a crack more and slipped his narrow frame outside. Keeping in the shadows as much as possible, he set out to explore the town. If you walked too far in one direction you found yourself in that ocean of grass. He was really in the middle of nowhere. Besides that, there were no people out and about, though lights burned in several windows.
He had had plenty of time to think while he waited for dark. Unfortunately, he hadn't figured out how he was going to find his sister. She could have been hauled out of town to some farm or other. He had seen a few of those isolated cabins from the train. Peggy must be terrified. And so was he every time he considered the possibility of never seeing her again.
Maybe he'd think better when his stomach quit growling. He was following some very pleasant smells. He hoped the houses would be easy to break into. The last thing he needed, now, was to be arrested.
The house he settled on was a large one for this little town. There were lights from some upstairs windows, but the lower level was dark. He circled to the back and discovered a faint glow in some windows there. He approached with more caution. Peeking though a window he discovered an empty kitchen with a lamp left burning on the table. Someone must be expected home. This could be tricky. Perhaps he should choose another house.
His stomach rumbled, forcing the decision. He'd pick a place to hide first thing and be on the lookout for this late arrival. He withdrew the pick from the seam of his shirt and prepared to unlock the door. The knob turned easily in his hand. They had left the door unlocked! What easy pickings this town might turn out to be.