The Bride of Willow Creek(10)

“I wish to Christ that you had never come,” he said, staring at her as if she was a devil who had popped out of the floor. He didn’t spare himself. He was absolutely to blame for all of his difficulties and for what would happen to Laura’s reputation. Angie’s part was a small one. Or had been until she showed up on his doorstep. In a day or so he’d calm down and put the blame back where it belonged, on himself. But right now he detested the fact that Angie’s appearance would tarnish a good woman’s memory.

They finished their coffee in rocky silence, watching the sun fade to pink and orange against the window glass.

Eventually Sam cleared his throat and focused his mind on the present. “Are you hungry? I could go to town and buy something to eat.”

And maybe take a minute to find out if the fight had started. He’d wagered five dollars that he couldn’t afford to lose on Mad Morgan. But if he won, the return would be well worth the risk. He was always looking for ways to make extra money. For one crazy minute, he considered leaving the girls with Molly tonight, as he’d planned. But no, that wouldn’t be right. This situation was getting off to a bad enough beginning without adding to the problems. He needed to talk to Lucy and Daisy, and there was still a lot of ground he hadn’t covered with Angie.

“I couldn’t swallow a bite.” She hesitated, then removed her cape and folded it across Lucy’s chair, as if she’d finally accepted the inevitable: that she had to stay. A long sigh collapsed her shoulders. “Tell me about her. What was she like?”

“Laura?”

“Of course, Laura. Who else?” Muttering, she raised a hand and pressed her palm to her forehead.

Sam wasn’t good at grasping situations from another person’s viewpoint, but he could understand that she’d undergone a few shocks today. Maybe that accounted for her consistent bad temper. He could hope.

“Laura wasn’t especially pretty like you are, but she had a natural sweetness that made her lovely,” he said, after thinking about the question for a minute. “She was always smiling, always finding joy in little things no matter how hard life got.” His gaze touched the dandelions wilting in the vase. Daisy had put them there, but it was something Laura might have done. She would have seen beauty in the weeds just as she’d seen goodness in him.

“She was a tiny thing. Looked like the wind could blow her away. But she had courage. She stood up to her parents and went her own way.” He gave Angie what he hoped was a meaningful look. “She was not argumentative, she was always supportive.

“I never heard a cross word pass her lips. I never heard her swear or throw a temper. God knows I gave her reason to complain, but she never did.”

“In short,” Angie said with another sigh when he stopped talking, “she was everything that I’m not.”

The gallant response would have been to remain silent. But too many resentments simmered on his tongue. “You could say that.” His answer didn’t seem to surprise her, and that made him angry, too.

“There was a time, way back when, when I might have tried to be a gentle, compliant wife,” she said after a moment, studying her empty coffee cup. “But that time is gone. I grew up. I learned men aren’t the infallible creatures you’d like us to believe you are. Plus, I’m Italian.”

“What does being Italian have to do with anything?”

“Mama came from English stock, like you.” She glanced at him and then away, as if looking at him offended her. “She always said that Italians wore their emotions on their sleeves. Italians get as volatile and crazy over a worm in an apple as they would at finding an assassin at the door. Every upset is major. Papa was like that. Maybe I am, too. At least sometimes.” She glanced at him. “I’ve never been to the old country, I don’t know a word of Italian. But I’ve got the blood. That means I’m not likely to be gentle or compliant.”

He hadn’t guessed this ten years ago, but he certainly knew it now.

She watched him touch his sore jaw. “Maybe I’m a little sorry that I hit you, Sam, but you deserved it. To my way of thinking, you’d deserve it if I shot you.”

“The way I see it, there’s blame on both sides. More blame on your side than mine if you want my whole entire opinion.”

Her nostrils flared before she closed her eyes for a long moment. “And that’s a problem, but I’m too tired to discuss it anymore tonight.” Suddenly she straightened and looked toward the bedroom doors with an expression of alarm. “One of the bedrooms must belong to the girls.”