Chapter 6 #2
Delilah nodded, then offered some sage advice, advice he’d heard all his thirty-three years.
“Falling and making a complete fool of yourself is part of life, Miss DuBois. It’s going to happen, whether you want it to or not.
We can’t stop it, no matter what we do, but take it for what it’s worth—a learning experience.
We aren’t born knowing how to walk and talk but eventually we learn.
The main thing is knowing what to do with the experience.
Do you get up after you fall? Or do you just stay there and wait for someone to help you?
” She patted Sheridan’s hand. “The choice is yours, of course, but I would opt for getting up.” She winked then turned her attention to Royce, who joined them, the smell of fresh roasted peanuts rising from the small bag in his hand.
“This is my husband, Royce. Royce, this is Sheridan DuBois.”
He gave the bag to Delilah then extended his hand in greeting, his smile wide. “How do you do, Miss DuBois?”
“It’s lovely to meet you.”
“How are you finding Serenity?” There was genuine concern in Royce’s expression, as if her answer was important, but Royce was like that. He cared about other people, wanting them to be as happy as he was, which Wyatt found to be an admirable trait.
“It’s a lovely, little town. So much different than where I’m from.”
“And where is that?”
“New Orleans.”
“I thought I heard that in your voice.” Delilah glanced at him even as she extended the bag of peanuts toward Sheridan, who shook her head. “Wyatt, didn’t you spend some time there when you were in the army?”
“I did. I loved it.” He declined the offer of peanuts as well with a quick shake of his head. “Even learned how to speak French while I was there.”
“Are you ready, my dear?” Royce asked as he held out his hand to Delilah.
“Of course.” Delilah laughed, put down the bag of peanuts and looked at Sheridan. “Miss DuBois, stick with Wyatt. He skates better than I do.” She winked, then allowed Royce to escort her to the ice.
“Your mother is very nice.”
“Yes, she is, but don’t be fooled. She has a backbone forged in steel.” He laughed, remembering all the times when she’d shown that fortitude. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Would you like to sit for a moment or two?”
“I think that would be wise. It feels like my feet are humming.”
“I’ve never heard it said that way, but I agree.
It does rather feel like your feet are humming.
” He gestured to the hay bale, waited until she took a seat, then sat next to her.
“Royce packed a bottle of brandy. Would you like a glass?” He grinned at her, hoping to get her to smile again, as he pulled the picnic basket closer.
“For purely medicinal purposes, of course. It’ll help chase away the cold.
I have sandwiches, too. And some shortbread cookies. ”
“No, thank you, but I think I will try that glass of brandy.” She did smile at him, one eyebrow raising ever so slightly. “For medicinal purposes. It’s a little colder now that we’ve stopped skating.”
He made quick work of digging the brandy out of the picnic basket, finding the glasses, then pouring a splash in each. “It’s apple brandy. I hope you like it.”
Sheridan accepted the glass and took a tentative sip.
“What do you think?”
“It’s very good.” She took another sip. “It doesn’t burn.”
“It shouldn’t, unless it’s a bad batch.” He turned the bottle toward her so she could look at the label.
It read “MacLean’s Fine Brandy.” Underneath, it read the flavor, in this case, apple.
“My brother, Kyle, has a small farm halfway between here and Santa Fe. He grows apples, pears, and cherries and makes brandy.”
She finished the small amount he’d poured her and handed him her glass. “I liked it. It’s very warming.” She licked her lips, which he found to be innocent, yet erotic, at the same time.
He stared at her mouth, unable to look away before he mentally shook himself and forced his gaze up to her eyes, which was a mistake.
A man could drown in those deep pools of shimmering green, and his heart skipped another beat.
“Are you ready to get back on the ice? Take one more turn around the pond?” He drank the last of his brandy, feeling the warming effects of the liquor, though he wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or if it was the nearness of her, then put both their glasses back in the picnic basket.
He stood. “I can introduce you to Marshal Goodrich.” He pointed to the marshal, Tresia, and their daughter skating together.
“You already know his wife, Tresia.” He nodded toward his friends, who only had eyes for each other.
“And there’s Rafael and Ventura Zepeda. He’s one of Serenity’s deputies.
You’ve already met Merrill and Polly at her shop.
I’m surprised Lucy and Ben aren’t here. Lucy loves to skate. ”
“Yes, I’m ready to skate. I think. My feet still feel like they’re humming, though.”
He laughed, then held out his hand. “You’ll get used to that.”
Sheridan didn’t hesitate, and slipped her hand in his, as he led her toward the ice once more.
They took a turn around the pond with him facing her and acknowledged the fact that she was getting better at this.
“I think I’m ready to try it on my own.”
He admired her bravery. Before tonight, she’d never done this. “Are you sure?”
She shook her head and laughed. “No, I’m not, but I have to try.”
He let go of her hands—reluctantly. And immediately, she lost her balance and reached for him, ending up in his arms, exactly where he wanted her to be.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with—he wasn’t even sure what those emotions were— but he certainly liked the way she was gazing at him.
“I guess I wasn’t ready.” She gave a wry chuckle.
“It’s all right. It’s your first time. You’ll get there. Give yourself some grace.”
“What’s happening over there?” She nodded toward a group of people gathering at the other end of the pond.
“Someone might be hurt.” He led her in that direction and heard the murmuring of the small crowd as they drew closer. Above it all, a strident female voice, louder than the others, pierced his ears.
“You shouldn’t be here. None of you should!
There are children here who shouldn’t be exposed to…
to women like you!” The woman’s voice rose in both volume and harshness, as Wyatt pushed his way through friends and neighbors.
He still held Sheridan’s hand, unwilling to let go, although he could feel her tense.
Sheridan pulled her hand from Wyatt’s grasp without a word. She recognized Samantha from the Emporium. The memory of feeling inferior as the woman had looked at her was nothing compared to the anger tightening her belly now.
Face red with anger, body stiff, Samantha stood not more than a foot away from Barrie, who held the hand of a young man. She pointed her finger in Barrie’s face. “You shouldn’t be skating with my son, trying to corrupt George with your…your…wanton ways.”
Barrie attempted to back away, her expression filled with fear. She tried to loosen George’s grip on her hand at the same time, but he wasn’t letting go. She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t utter a word, obviously too frightened.
Barrie was the sweetest and kindest and would never purposely hurt anyone. Anger churned in Sheridan’s belly on Barrie’s behalf.
“Mother, stop! We’re just skating.” George insisted, his face, too, reddening. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“You’re touching her! That’s enough! She’s…she’s…” Samantha stammered and finally uttered, “Dirty.” She yanked on her son’s arm, trying to dislodge his hold on Barrie. “You’re coming home with me right now! You will not associate with…with filthy whores!”
Sheridan gasped. Unable to stand still another moment, she skated as best she could toward them, her anger making her movements awkward.
She situated herself between Barrie, George and Samantha.
She took a breath, looking for calmness to address the situation without making it worse.
Before she could say a word though, Samantha turned on her.
“And you! You should go back to where you belong.”
Sheridan straightened, standing up tall. “I will not.” She kept her voice quiet, restrained, but still full of conviction. “And you have no right to tell me so, nor do you have the right to be so cruel.” She nodded toward Barrie and George. “They weren’t doing anything wrong.”
Samantha’s eyes narrowed. “I will do whatever I have to do in order to protect my son from the likes of you…and your whores!” She reached around her and attempted to yank on her son’s arm once more, but it didn’t look like George was willing to let go of Barrie’s hand, though it was evident Barrie wanted him to.
Actually, it looked like she was ready to cry.
George, though, looked furious. Samantha stepped closer.
“No one wants you here. You’re just like your mother,” Samantha snapped, her entire being stiff and uncompromising, her eyes narrowing.
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” Where her bravado came from, she didn’t know. And at this moment, she didn’t care. “My mother was a fine woman. A good woman. And I’m proud to be her daughter.”
A ripple of gasps from the growing crowd surrounded her.
Samantha’s mouth opened and closed several times, even as the redness on her cheeks spread outward to encompass her entire face.
Not unhappy about the pause in pure, unadulterated hatred, Sheridan turned around and gently removed George’s hand from Barrie’s. “I think it would be wise to take your mother home now.”
The boy’s cheeks turned a brighter shade of red, apparently appalled by his mother’s behavior and embarrassed by all of the attention. “We was only skatin’.”
“I know, but that is obviously upsetting your mother.”