Page 18

"Mrs. Logan, is this all you have in the world?"

Sarah Keller gestured at the few bundles piled on Melissa's empty parlor floor. She'd brought a basket of warm bread and fresh butter as a welcoming gift. Rectangles of burnished October sun gleamed on the polished hardwood and reflected off the light striped wallpaper, making the room bright and cheerful. But there was no way to disguise its lack of furnishings.

Melissa smiled and rocked Jenny in her arms.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but I think it's safe to say that most people left the Yukon with a lot less than they arrived with.

I have clothes for Jenny and a few things for myself. And of course, she has her cradle to sleep in. As soon as my new furniture is delivered, the house will look more lived in."

The older woman gaped at her.

"But what about you? Where will you sleep in the meantime?"

"I have the bedding—at least that much was delivered. I'll sleep on the floor until the rest of the things get here."

Melissa honestly didn't mind. Solitude wasn't what she'd wanted, but since it had been thrust upon her, she was determined to make the best of it now.

"Oh, dear, no. You must come to my house and stay. I'll make the girls double up for a night or two, and you can have one of their beds."

The memory of warm wolf hides flashed across Melissa's mind before she had a chance to push it away. If Dylan didn't stop haunting her thoughts, she worried that her heart would never heal. She put a hand on Sarah's arm.

"I appreciate it, but really it isn't necessary. On the trip to Dawson, I was expecting Jenny and I slept in a tent. Everyone camped in tents. In fact, she was born in one during a blizzard, weren't you, button?"

Jenny was far more fascinated by the tiny earrings Melissa wore than anything her mother said, but Mrs. Keller made a horrified noise.

"Lordy, how terrible! I had no idea— But at least you had Mr. Logan with you then. It's so tragic that you lost him."

Remembering that awful night with vivid clarity, she said nothing. Coy had left her in the care of an Indian woman, and had gone off to gamble and get drunk. The blank-faced woman, who spoke almost no English, had been more frightening than a comfort. Melissa had been sure she would die—she'd never been so scared or lonely in her life. And she never wanted to be in that spot again.

She shifted Jenny to her hip.

"Maybe it won't be easy to make it by myself—I think the world can be very cruel to women alone. But believe me, there are far worse situations a woman can find herself in. We'll be all right. Making sure Jenny grows up in a safe, loving home is the only thing that matters now."

Mrs. Keller gave her a searching look, then nodded.

"I've survived with just my girls, so I know it can be done. I hope you won't be too lonely, though."

She sighed.

"Some nights are a year long."

Melissa drew a deep breath.

"But loneliness doesn't leave bruises or scars. At least not the kind you can see."

***

Dylan made his way back to town in the darkness, blessing Penelope for her calm plodding every step of the way.

After turning her loose in Red's corral, he went back to the hotel and tried to sleep, but he only tossed and turned.

At least he was alone in the bed, he thought sourly.

If he'd held any ragged remnants of esteem for Elizabeth, she'd erased them with the little stunt she'd pulled at the house.

Why he'd never seen through her before remained a mystery to him.

But if everything finally went the way he'd like, he'd have just one last dealing with her.

The single good thing that had come of seeing her again was he'd realized what a fool he'd been to let Melissa go.

He loved her—and now he believed that she loved him too.

She had good reason to be afraid of being dependent on a man, but he could prove to her that he was worthy of her trust.

They belonged together.

Somewhere toward morning, Dylan rose and sat by the window to watch the sun come up, edgy with anticipation. He had plans, great plans, wonderful plans, for the land here. He would bring Melissa and Jenny home to it yet.

As the morning grew older, Dylan paced his room like a restless dog, waiting for word.

Sometimes he'd go to the window and look down at the street, hoping to see Elizabeth approach.

Then he'd go back to pacing.

He must have pulled out his watch a hundred times to check the hour.

At twelve-ten he flopped into a chair. Well, damn it, they could have done this the easy way—easy for both of them, and certainly less humiliating for her. But if the sheriff had to get involved, then so be it.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Dylan strode across the room in three steps and found a boy standing in the hall.

"Mr. Harper? Are you Mr. Harper?"

He nodded.

The boy whipped an envelope out from behind his back and thrust it into Dylan's hands.

"A lady downstairs paid me a quarter to deliver this to you. So I went to the front desk and asked what room—"

Dylan dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a silver dollar.

"Here, son, I'll give you a dollar for doing a good job."

The youngster's eyes lit up as he stared at the coin.

"Gee, thanks a lot!"

"Go buy yourself some candy,"

Dylan called after him as he ran down the hall.

He looked at the creamy envelope and his name written in Elizabeth's flowing script, and his hands actually shook a little. He ripped open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of vellum that smelled faintly of roses.

Dear Dylan—

I accept your generous offer to move from this house. I think I can be out within the month. Please believe me when I tell you I didn't want to hurt you by marrying Scott. But I have a lifetime to review my regrets.

Love,

Elizabeth

"Yeah, a lifetime and ten thousand dollars. That makes it a little easier, doesn't it?"

he said to her handwriting.

By four o'clock that afternoon, Dylan had made the bank deposit and was standing on the dock, waiting to board a steamship bound for Portland. The biggest challenge of his life lay at the other end of this journey.

He hoped he was ready for it.

***

Melissa stood in her parlor, critically studying the location of her new settee, and shook her head. She looked up at the two burly draymen who'd delivered it to her.

"I'm really sorry, but do you think you could put it back the way we had it before? I promise this will be the last time. Really."

Jenny watched everything from her cradle with an expression of solemn curiosity.

She heard a muffled sigh, but they picked up the settee and carried it back to the bay window, turning it so that it faced the street.

"Oh, much better. Thank you for your help! Would you like some lemonade before you go?"

The older of the two said, "No, ma'am, but thanks. We've got two more stops to make before lunch. We'll have to come back this afternoon with that lamp we left at the store."

"That's fine. Just so I have it by evening."

They left then, and Melissa went to the doorway to admire the room and its new furnishings. They weren't fancy, but they looked very good in this house. Everything was clean and bright and newly painted.

"What do you think, button. Isn't this nice?"

Jenny smiled at her and waved both arms.

This was a new beginning for her and Jenny, too. Not one that she'd wanted, but given time, Melissa hoped she might stop thinking about Dylan twice an hour. Maybe she'd eventually be able to think about him twice a day, and then once a day. She might even be able to sleep nights without seeing him in her dreams, or feeling as if he still lay next to her. As it was now, sometimes she woke up in the darkness certain that if she put out her hand, she'd find him on his side of the bed. He was the only loose end left in her life. She'd taken care of everything else.

Thank God Pa didn't know where she'd moved to.

That was the one fear she had, that he'd somehow find her and try to drag her back to Slabtown, or demand money from her.

For now, though, her life was as good as it could be without Dylan. She and Jenny were well and happy, they had good neighbors in Mrs. Keller and her daughters, each of whom competed with the others to hold Jenny, and they had money.

It wasn't until she moved into this house that Melissa had found a poke in Jenny's clothes. She knew Dylan had hidden it there, probably supposing that she wouldn't accept it from him otherwise. And he'd been right. But since he'd left it with Jenny's things, she intended to use part of it to open a bank account for the baby. Added to what she'd already accumulated in Dawson, the gold would keep them comfortable and safe for a good long time.

***

Carrying a bouquet he'd bought from a cart on the street, Dylan walked into the lobby of the Portland Hotel and approached the front desk. Once again, he turned some heads, but he took little note of their rude curiosity. He felt all the nervous anticipation of a boy plotting his first kiss. On the trip downriver, he'd envisioned the scene— The surprise on Melissa's face when she opened her door, and the joy. She'd be so glad to see him that she'd fall into his arms and save him the agony of having to bare his soul to her with words. Or maybe being with her again would make it easy to tell her how much he loved her. He'd tell her whatever she wanted him to if she would only be his true, legal wife. He'd happily spend the rest of his life making up for everything she'd missed.

He didn't recognize the desk clerk behind the counter—what kind of reception would he get this time?

"May I help you, sir?"

The tone was a bit brittle, but not downright hostile.

"My wife, Mrs. Dylan Harper, is a guest in the hotel. Could you ring her room and tell her I'm on my way up?"

The clerk glanced down at Dylan's knife and blanched.

"Well, sir, you see, Mr. Harper . . ."

Foreboding washed over him like a powerful wave. Feeling as if his stomach were trying to grab his ankles, Dylan put both elbows on the countertop.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm afraid your wife checked out yesterday."

"Checked out! Are you sure?"

It never occurred to him that Melissa would leave the hotel so soon. He'd supposed that she'd want to stay there for a month or so and let the staff pamper her a bit.

The clerk nodded.

"She paid her bill and left with your daughter. I handled the matter myself."

"What forwarding address did she give you?"

The clerk swallowed hard and looked as if he wished he could crawl into one of the pigeonholes behind him.

"None, I'm afraid, Mr. Harper."

Obviously, he thought that Dylan was an abandoned husband.

Disappointed and frustrated, the pain of loss sliced through Dylan with a sharp, ruthless blade. He swung around and gazed unseeing at the guests wandering the lobby. Damn it! Why had fate conspired against him like this? Now that he'd finally realized what a dunderhead he'd been to let Melissa go in the first place, he'd come racing back to Portland, only to lose her completely.

Rage and the stirring of grief made his heart thump in his chest. He turned to the clerk and demanded, "Doesn't anyone in this hotel know where she's gone? Is she still in Portland?"

The clerk glanced around the curious onlookers and shook his head. He lowered his own voice to a whisper, as if hoping to suggest to Dylan that he lower his.

"No, Mr. Harper, we have no idea. I'm sorry."

"Goddamn it!"

he erupted, then turned sharply. He wished there were someone to place the blame on, he'd love to point a finger at an individual or a group and accuse them of having lost the one true love of his life. But there was no one to blame except himself.

"Have you got a wife?"

"Y-yes, sir, and three children."

"Here, give these to her,"

he said, and shoved the flowers at the clerk.

"Where's your bar?"

Like a drowning man spotting a life preserver, the clerk spied a hotel employee, a young man passing by in a crisp, white jacket, and snapped his fingers at him.

"Keller, please escort Mr. Harper to the hotel bar immediately."

"But Mr. Stickle, the dining room—"

"Now, Keller. I don't care what you were doing."

"Yes, sir."

The young man faced Dylan.

"This way—"

He studied Dylan for a few seconds as he turned to lead him across the vast carpeted lobby.

"Your name is Harper?"

"Yeah, that's right,"

Dylan grumped, but at that moment, he thought it should be mud.

***

Glancing at the new mantel clock, Melissa saw that it was almost lunchtime, and she started toward the kitchen. Jenny would be hungry, too. It was wonderful to have a regular schedule and a sun that rose and set at decent hours.

Just as she brought out a loaf of bread to slice, she heard a knock at the front door. Maybe the draymen had found her lamp in their wagon after all. But when she opened the door, she saw neither the draymen nor her lamp.

She saw a man in a black suit that fit him perfectly, following the line of his broad shoulders and his long legs. His heavy sun-streaked hair still brushed his shoulders, though, and his clear green eyes considered her as if they could see through her heart to her soul.

"Dylan!"

she whispered.

"Hi, Melissa."

She stared at him in amazement, as if he were a dead man come back from the grave.

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy. I looked for you at the hotel, and most of the staff knew Melissa Harper, but only one knew about Melissa Logan. I got lucky when I happened upon Tom Keller. Um, can I come in and talk to you?"

He seemed nervous and hesitant. Maybe he thought she would order him from her porch.

"Yes, of course."

She opened the door wider.

He stood in the entryway and looked around.

"This is nice, really nice. Homey."

"Thank you . . . um, please . . . do sit down,"

she said, motioning him to the new settee.

Jenny let out a loud noise of recognition then and grinned at Dylan, showing off two little bottom teeth just coming through her gums.

"Hey, Jenny,"

he said, and stooped to give her a kiss. Then he settled lightly on the slick fabric of the settee.

Melissa perched on a side chair, feeling as nervous as he acted. God, please don't let it be bad news, she prayed. She eyed his clothes again.

"You look very nice, like you're going to a wedding or a funeral."

He smiled at her, that sweet, tender smile that she'd seen once or twice before. It went straight to her heart and made it ache.

"I'm hoping to go to a wedding."

The ache turned to sharp pain. She glanced away from him, hoping she could get control of the tears that sprang into her eyes.

"Oh, you and Elizabeth patched your differences?"

"Elizabeth! God, no! Melissa, I want to marry you."

He startled her by sliding off the settee to his knees front of her. He took her icy hands in his.

"But—but isn't that why you went back to The Dalles? To marry Elizabeth?"

"No, honey, that was never the reason. I wanted to see the property and figure out if there was a way I could get control of it again. It wasn't the house I wanted, it was the land. It's beautiful there."

He explained to her what had transpired with the taxes and the condition of the house, and what he'd learned from both Elizabeth and checking around on his own.

"You want to live in that house?"

she asked.

"I thought you hated it."

"I do hate it. I'm going to have it torn down so I can build a new house on the land. Our house."

He looked down at their linked hands.

"I understand why you don't want to have anything to do with marriage again, and that you want to make it on your own."

He leaned forward.

"But, damn it, Melissa, we were good together. I love you and I love Jenny. I really do. Tell me there's at least a chance you'll change your mind about living alone."

Flabbergasted, Melissa stared at him. She could hardly believe what she heard.

"You have some idea of how hard life was for me with Coy. I never wanted to be married again,"

she began, and he sat back on his heels. She went on to tell him about the incident with her father and her brother, and saw anger smolder in his features.

"As horrible as that day was, I realized that if not for you, I probably would have let them bully me into going back there. I'd grown up with being ordered around and treated like an indentured servant—I didn't know any different. Until I met you. You proved to me that I was worth more."

She smiled at him, but she couldn't stop the tears that ran down her face.

"I told my father that I didn't want Jenny to know a man like him, even if he was her grandfather. But I want her to know you and have you in her life, Dylan. And I want my new life to be with you."

He smiled up at her—it was a grin that lit his whole face. He rose to his knees again.

"Does that mean yes? Yes, you'll marry me?"

She nodded.

"It means yes. I love you so much. I loved you long before we left Dawson. And now that neither of us has any family left—"

"We'll be our own family."

He leaned closer to her and kissed her then. His lips, warm and soft on hers, hinted at passion yet to come, and the tenderness that had always been there.

Dylan broke away and rummaged around in his pocket, relief and bone-deep gratitude washing through him.

"I admit I took a chance and hoped things would go my way."

He pulled out a small box and opened it.

"I never gave you a wedding ring that day in the Yukon Girl. So I figured I should back up and start from scratch with an engagement ring."

He would have given a day's worth of gold to see that expression on her face—delight and wonder. She reminded him of a kid opening a Christmas present.

"Oh, Dylan, it's beautiful!"

He put it on her finger; lucky for him it fit perfectly.

"What kind of wedding do you want?" he asked.

"Neither of your previous ones were much to write home about."

She shook her head and stared down at the diamond ring, still smiling. Then she looked up at him with those gray eyes, eyes that had haunted his sleep from the first day he met her.

"It doesn't matter what kind of wedding, it's who you marry. The courthouse will be fine. Just as long as we're together."

Her smile faded then.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, I signed a lease on this house for a whole year! And this furniture, it was just delivered. In fact, I'm still waiting for a lamp."

He waved off her concerns.

"Oh, hell, that doesn't matter. We can afford to buy out the lease if we decide to. But we can stay here for a while. Have our wedding night . . ."

They'd have all the nights of the rest of their lives. At last they had found what they'd always been searching for.

A family of their own.

###