Noelle

“Here.”

She started as a lean, darkly tanned hand passed her an immaculate white linen handkerchief. She held it to her mouth and then her cheeks and eyes. “Thank you,” she said gruffly.

“My grandmother told me that you lost your entire family in the flood. I didn’t know that. And I didn’t realize that you were still so affected by it.”

She peeked up at him over the handkerchief and found an odd compassion in his eyes, replacing his earlier mockery. “Neither did I,” she confessed.

He knew about bad memories. He had enough of his own. “I’ve never been to Galveston,” he continued conversationally, “but I spoke with several people who were there just days after the flood. You saw your parents, afterward, didn’t you?” he added, because it was the only thing that made sense of her strong reaction to any discussion of the flood.

She nodded and tried to turn away.

He took her firmly by the upper arms and turned her back to face him. His narrow, insistent blue eyes bored into hers, so close that they filled the world, so intense that they made it impossible for her to move.

“Don’t hold it inside. Tell me,” he said firmly. “Tell me everything you remember.”

She was compelled to answer, needed to answer. The memories tumbled helplessly out of her mouth, and she couldn’t stop them. It was such a relief to speak of it, at last, to someone who would listen.

“They didn’t look human,” she whispered. She dabbed at her nose, wincing at the memory. “They were piled up, row upon row upon row of bodies, some so horrible…” She swallowed. “I felt so guilty, you see. I was in Victoria with Uncle. If I had been at home, I would have died with them. We went to town on Saturday, every Saturday, to shop. They would have been in town when it happened,” she told him, “my parents and my four brothers. It was midmorning and the flood came unexpectedly. They said a wall of water covered the entire city, drowning everyone in its path. They wouldn’t have known what happened…or so I was told. Over five thousand people died there in a space of minutes. Minutes!” She stopped to hold the cloth out in the rain, wetting it. Then she patted her face with the cool cloth and paused to choke down the nausea. “They were laid out on the street, and not together. At least they were found…in time…So that they could still be…identified.” Tears were hot in her eyes as she remembered the sight of her beloved family like that. She pressed the handkerchief to her mouth.

He frowned slightly as he studied her drawn, tearstained face. He’d seen death so often in his younger days that it didn’t really disturb him very much. His mother had slipped from life very peacefully, holding his hand. But Galveston had been a nightmare of corpses, they said, more than men saw even during wartime. He could only imagine how it would have been for a sensitive young woman to see her entire family lying dead on the street. Drowning victims of that sort were a nightmarish sight. It would have been even worse a few days later, as people had to be forced to gather the decomposing corpses…

He stuck his hands in his pockets and jingled his loose change as he watched her cope with her outpouring of emotion. He sensed that it was unusual for her to give in to tears, especially in front of strangers. He didn’t touch her. Some part of him wanted to, but he wouldn’t have appreciated a stranger’s attempt at comfort and he didn’t think she would, either.

She got herself back in control at last and wiped the traces of moisture from her eyes. They were red now, like her straight nose and her cheeks. “My uncle’s insistence on returning to Galveston resurrected all the memories. I thought that I’d put it behind me, but I was never able to talk about it. I thought Andrew would be the one person who could let me pour it all out, since he was in the war…but he wouldn’t listen to me. He actually seemed to go pale when I mentioned it. Of course, I must have imagined that.”

He knew that she hadn’t. Andrew had never seen raw death, Jared was certain of it, and the young man had a squeamish stomach. “Go on,” he coaxed.

The sound of the rain grew insistent on the roof. She sighed. “So there was no one else to tell. You accused me of running from something. You were right. I would rather die than go back to live in that city, with the memories of all the faces, the pitiful faces.” She stopped. “I’m sorry,” she said huskily.

“No, I’m sorry,” he replied at once. “I made some cruel remarks. My only excuse is that I didn’t know your entire family had died in the flood.”

The apology was unexpected. She lifted her eyes to his and searched them. “My uncle was down with his back when the flood came. I had gone up to Victoria to keep house and wait on him several weeks before the flood came. I would have gone home the following Monday. I felt so guilty that I hadn’t been with my family when they died.”

“That was God’s decision, surely?” he replied solemnly.

“You mean, that He spared me for a reason?”

He nodded.

She considered that silently. Her grief had made all her memories painful. He had forced her to face them, to face divine purposes as well. “Thank you for listening to me. Most people don’t like to hear of such horror.” She managed a faint smile for him. “And city men as a rule have no stomach at all for unpleasantness.” She frowned as she searched his eyes shyly. “It…did not disturb you too much, what I said?”

He had to stifle laughter. “No,” he said simply.

The twinkle in his eyes puzzled her. “I’m glad. Thank you for listening.”

“Life goes on,” he reminded her. “We do what we must.”

“Have you lost someone you loved?” she asked curiously.

His face closed up. “Most people have.”

He wouldn’t talk about himself. She hadn’t really expected it to be otherwise. He seemed very reticent, and he was an attorney, which meant that he had to be intelligent as well. She blew her nose on the cloth and gave in to the exhaustion that followed her outburst. “You’ve been kind,” she said reluctantly. She grimaced. “I’m…sorry that I was antagonistic. It was being told that I was living on charity—”

“Oh, hell,” he said irritably. “I didn’t mean it.”

She glanced at him. “You shouldn’t curse.”

He laughed. “It’s my house,” he pointed out “I can curse if I like.”

She started to argue, but thought better of it.

“My grandmother says that you do more than enough to earn your keep. Stay as long as you like. I must confess that I shouldn’t enjoy living in Galveston, even though I didn’t lose anyone in the flood.”

“Andrew was afraid that you wouldn’t want me here. He told me that you would probably make me leave. I suppose I was anticipating it when you arrived. It made me hostile toward you.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “My stepbrother knows very little about me,” he pointed out. “He was a boy when I left home, and my visits have been infrequent.”

“Andrew was good to me, although I realize that he brought me here without your permission. When he learned about my circumstances, he insisted,” she said, and her green eyes softened. “He’s quite dashing and very brave, and he impressed my uncle greatly.” She looked nervously at him. “He said that I could be a great help to your grandmother as a companion, to earn my keep. I have done my best to ease her path, and I’ve been helping Andrew with his correspondence and paperwork in the evenings. I can use a typewriter and a Dictaphone. Andrew taught me how.”

He was getting an interesting picture of his stepbrother’s benevolence. It wasn’t flattering to Andrew. Apparently Noelle was working for him as an unpaid secretary, in addition to running his grandmother’s errands. No doubt she was earning her keep, but it was Jared, not Andrew, who was paying the bills.

He frowned as the dampness on the porch began to make his leg ache. His hand was gripping the cane hard, and he grimaced as he used it to prop his sore leg.

“I’m sorry for the remarks I made about your handicap,” she added unexpectedly, nodding toward his injured appendage.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not touchy about it,” he said.

“How did it happen?” she asked, without thinking.

“Would you believe that a horse threw me?” he drawled. It wasn’t the truth, but he wasn’t ready to impart that to anyone in the household just yet.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “The cane makes you look distinguished,” she added helpfully.

“Distinguished, or ancient?” he taunted.

“Mummies are ancient, not people,” she argued.

His lips turned up briefly. “Comforting, Miss Brown. Very comforting.”

An awkward silence fell over them while the rain increased its rhythmic pounding on the tin roof. “I must go and see if Mrs. Dunn needs anything. Thank you again,” she said sincerely.

“I had no intention of throwing you out on one day’s acquaintance,” he said before she left. “Andrew misjudged me. I’d do almost anything for my grandmother’s comfort. Any service you do her will please me.”

She smiled. “Thank you, then.” She continued on her way, ruff led but a little more at ease with him.

Later, when she told Mrs. Dunn about the unexpected compassion from Jared Dunn, the older woman was visibly surprised.

“Jared is a hard man,” Mrs. Dunn said. “He hasn’t had an easy life, and there’s a shell around him that no one in recent years has been able to breach. He cares for me, in his fashion, but he doesn’t like most people. He can be dangerous, and he makes a formidable adversary, especially in a court of law.”