“Frankly, yes, and besides he’s left town.”
“How do you know?”
“After I relieved him of the money, I suggested doing so might be in his best interest.”
She paused. “You didn’t threaten him, did you?”
“If you call putting a gun to his head and promising to track him down like a rabid dog threatening him, guilty as charged.”
That left her speechless.
“So, I don’t think he’ll be pressing charges, and I’d already spoken to Sheriff Howard the day after we found you in the desert. Stopped by again today to give him Nash’s description. He plans to wire other lawmen in the area just in case Nash surfaces again.”
Eddy found it hard to believe how much he’d gone out of his way for her.
“Surprised?”
“Yes.”
“Not all men who look like me are like Nash, Eddy. Some of us are honorable.”
“Were you a slave owner?”
“No. Were you slave born?”
She shook her head and said, “No. My parents were freed by their owner in Kentucky right before they married.”
“A love match?”
“Oh, absolutely. They loved each other immensely.” What she didn’t say was that they loved each other so much that when their bodies were found they were entwined beneath the wagon where’d they sought shelter from the storm—apparently in an effort to keep each other warm. “Did you love your fiancée?”
He shook his head. “It was more of a business arrangement, at least on my part.”
She found that surprising, too, and wondered if Natalie shared that view. “If I ever marry—and I doubt I will at my age now—I want the kind of love my parents shared. Did your parents love each other?”
He whispered, “No.”
Eddy studied him. The one word reply seemed to resonate with pain and sadness. Had either of his parents loved him? She’d felt the love of her parents every day of her life and in many ways still did. She wondered what his childhood had been like.
“Thank you for the marmalade.”
She sensed he’d deliberately changed the subject. “You’re welcome. I told Jim I’d teach him to make his own for you.”
“I prefer yours.”
“It’s the same recipe,” she said, looking up from frosting the top of the last cake.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Are you really that innocent?”
Eddy saw soft amusement overlaying the hunger in his eyes, and the bricks in her wall shook slightly. “Yes, and no, I suppose.”
“With yours, I want to put it on your lips and spend the night tasting it.”
Eddy swayed. Cracks crawled up her wall’s foundation.