The band in the corner played Western swing as the tables around the banquet hall began filling up with people. Bess, her blond hair pulled into a coiffure of her natural curls, leaned just a little more than she liked into the crook of Judd’s arm as they made their way to a seat.
She had on more makeup than usual to disguise the dark circles under her eyes. After calming herself enough the day before to finally leave her room, she had only managed to disguise her panic for the rest of the evening from Agnes and Judd due to her years of practice at showing no emotion in order to survive her challenging living arrangements. She’d gone to bed early, claiming to be tired because of all the paperwork she’d done earlier in the day. But instead of sleeping, she’d sat up in bed all night afraid that sleep would bring nightmares.
It was a credit to her ability to wear a mask that neither Judd nor Agnes seemed to sense any change in her. They were talking about the band, how the stand-up bass player was an M.I.T. graduate and that the violinist also played in a string quartet that toured the country. Bess gratefully took the seat Judd pulled out for her and closed her eyes to listen more closely to the music.
“There she is,” Michelle’s voice exclaimed. Bess opened her eyes to see the pastor’s wife standing right beside her, tugging along a handsome, tall man with black, straight hair and twin dimples when he smiled. “This is my brother, Samuel Miller,” she told Bess. “Samuel, this is Bess Taylor, the woman who made this great outfit.”
Samuel took Bess’ hand in his own, engulfing her cold fingers, infusing them with warmth. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, holding onto her hand a little longer than necessary. “Is this seat taken?”
He didn’t wait for Bess to answer, but gracefully pulled out the chair and eased himself next to her, so that his long thigh just grazed her knee.
“Oh, don’t mind me, brother dear,” Michelle laughed. “I’ll just be over there with Michael. You know where to find us.” She waved at Bess over her brother’s head and winked before leaving them on their own.
Samuel gave Bess the full treatment of his dimples. She noticed the length of his thick lashes and the depth of his brown eyes. Wherever he was from, he must be devastating to the female population, she thought. “My sister said you were talented,” he said, “but she didn’t mention that you were also really beautiful.”
Bess smiled politely. “And also really pregnant,” she replied bluntly.
To his credit, Samuel didn’t flinch. “I’m sorry about your husband,” he said. “I met him once years ago. He was a really nice guy.”
“He was indeed,” Judd’s deep voice said from over Bess’ head. He sat down in the chair on the other side of her, draping his arm across her back, settling his hand on her shoulder.
“Sheriff Taylor,” Samuel said, winking at Bess, who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud.
The hand on Bess’ shoulder tightened. Normally, she would have been irritated with his presumptive attitude, but the contact felt comfortingly protective. She turned to Judd. “Samuel is Michelle’s brother,” she said. “Have you met him before?”
“Only in a purely social way,” Samuel answered, laughing at his own joke.
An uneasy silence settled on the table. Bess gripped her hands in her lap and stared at the tablecloth, wishing that Agnes had not volunteered to help with the serving line. Judd leaned toward her, so that she could feel his warm breath against her forehead. “Would you like me to fill you a plate?” he asked.
Before Bess could answer, a purely feminine voice shot across the table. “Judd, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Lillian draped herself over his other shoulder, her perfume filling Bess’ nostrils so that she had to hold back a sneeze.
Judd’s arm left Bess’ shoulder, leaving her feeling strangely disappointed. She watched as Lillian purred in Judd’s ear, as they left the table to go to the buffet line. She watched knowing Lillian wouldn’t let Judd return to her table.
“She sure doesn’t like you,” Samuel remarked.
Bess gave Samuel a bland smile. “We might as well eat.”
Samuel stood up and helped Bess out of her chair. “Your brother-in-law is pretty possessive,” he said.
He was right, but the comment rubbed Bess the wrong way. “He’s already lost his brother to the war,” she said. “I think that gives him the right to be protective of his brother’s child.”
“Of course.” Samuel wrapped his hand around her elbow and felt her shake. “Hey,” he said, “you feel a little wobbly. You want me to bring you a plate?”
It was a kind offer. She looked up to catch Judd’s black glare from across the room. “Thank you,” she agreed, turning her face up to Samuel’s and offering him a brilliant smile that made his dimples deepen. Let Judd glare at that.
She sat back down, realizing with a start that for a few minutes at least she had forgotten about the danger she was in. It didn’t help that she’d discovered the tattoo shop James Ruben had opened was in Texas, just a few hours away from where the Taylors lived.
She glanced around the banquet hall, at the women in their shirtwaist dresses holding hands with husbands dressed in suits and bolo ties, their pointy-toed cowboy boots gleaming. A little boy in a cowboy hat with pressed jeans and a striped shirt danced in tight circles around his mother’s legs, clapping in rhythm to the stand-up bass. The teenagers gathered at a table in the corner by the band, pairing off in couples, holding hands surreptitiously under the tablecloth.
It was a good place to have a family, a good place to learn about love. It would be a good place for her child to become the person Daniel would have raised. But it would have to be a place without her. She was used to watching life happen from the outside, so why did the thought hurt so much?
Samuel returned with two plates, sitting even closer beside Bess at the table. He talked to her about his job as an insurance salesmen in Dallas, about his glory days playing baseball in high school and college, about the Mustang he drove. He didn’t seem to notice that Bess wasn’t talking at all.
When she had finally heard enough, she excused herself to go to the restroom. She had only taken a few steps away from the table before a couple of women came up to her, complimenting her on Michelle’s dress and asking if she could do some sewing for them as well. She was thinking about the possibilities when she made it to the line waiting to use the facilities, so that she didn’t notice who was around her until a familiar voice dripped from behind her.
“You certainly play the widow card well,” Lillian spoke so that only Bess could hear her. “You know all those women look on it as charity, complimenting you on that rudimentary design and asking you to sew. And Judd will see right through you, too.”
Bess forced her body not to react to the viscous words. “Jealous much?” she whispered, then whirled out of the line, the pressure on her bladder forgotten. She returned to her table, surprised to see Judd in her former seat, making Samuel look all kinds of uncomfortable sitting beside him.
When she had seated herself next to Judd, Samuel gave her a lazy smile and excused himself to visit with his sister. Judd made no comment, but shot Bess such a look from his knowing eyes that she almost laughed out loud. The smile died on her lips when Lillian sauntered up to Samuel’s vacated seat and poured herself next to Judd, sitting so close that she was practically in his lap. The sudden realization that her leaving would give Lillian full access to her child caused a spasm in Bess’ lower back.
She winced, catching Judd’s attention. He saw her hand reaching to where the pain was worst and replaced her fingers with his own, rubbing her back gently with his big, work-tough palm until the spasm had subsided.
“Is that better?” he asked, looking into Bess’ eyes so that he missed the venomous glare Lillian was shooting in her direction.
Bess ignored the other woman and gave Judd a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she whispered, allowing her hand to reach up and cup his craggy face momentarily.
It was like lightening striking. He held his breath until her hand slipped back to the tablecloth. “We can’t have you overdoing it,” he told her, his voice unusually husky.
Lillian’s red-tipped fingers snaked around his neck, effectively turning his head and breaking the spell. “Pastor Jones is getting ready to speak, Judd,” she purred. “You don’t want to miss this.”
Bess, shell-shocked and feeling every bit of her pregnancy, leaned hard against the back of her chair and just concentrated on the next breath. She couldn’t even look at Judd’s muscular, broad back without seeing that woman’s possessive arm snaked around it, so she closed her eyes.
Men. Stupid, silly creatures.
Or brutal and deadly.
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