Speak Easy Speak Danger Page 4

  “Maybe you should be careful about what you offer.” Jo stood from the crate.

  Tessa felt the increase in her pulse when Jo took both her hands and walked her toward the counter littered with the larger pieces of Jo’s tools and sawdust from her cuttings. Covered with an old skirt of Tessa’s, too worn to wear, was a cash register ready to tally daily accounts when the shop officially opened. Jo shifted to sit on the floor, tugged Tessa down with her. Tessa held her knees to her chest. Jo stretched her legs out and crossed them at the ankle. They both leaned their backs against the counter.

  Jo said, “Some of this story isn’t mine to tell. I’ll have to glaze over those parts. Let’s stay simple and say things weren’t so good in Boston, and tragedy came to our family. We weren’t sure Fiona would survive the passage out here, by the time we left. Fiona worked so hard for all of us to make this move, away from danger. She could’ve come here on her own and avoided the worst of what happened, but that’s not Fiona’s way. Fiona took us on as her family. She wasn’t leaving Boston without all of her family.”

  “But I thought—” A gentle finger to Tessa’s lips halted her question. Tessa felt sparks alight in her body, a yearning strained for release.

  The corner of Jo’s lip quirked upward, and Tessa had the sudden urge to kiss her. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the obvious differences between Fiona and me. I feel I can trust you with private stuff, so I’ll give you a chance. Hope you don’t disappoint.”

  “I couldn’t do anything to hurt you, Jo. Or your family by extension.” Tessa prayed Jo could hear the sincerity in her words. She trusted Jo more than her brother. Tessa hoped Jo recognized it.

  “Okay.” Jo quirked a smile. “Suffice it to say we’re a stronger family than any blood could’ve created. And in our hearts, and thanks to the power of Margaret and her paperwork, Fiona will always be my legal sister.”

  Tessa shifted so she could glance into Jo’s eyes. A blind man could have seen the love and adoration when she spoke of Fiona. How different her life would be, Tessa thought, if Warren had one iota of the same form of affection toward her, his biological sister.

  “Do you think you will ever be able to tell me the whole story?” Tessa asked, prepared for Jo’s antagonism at the requested personal invasion.

  Instead, Jo placed a hand on her bent knee and said, “I would like that, to share my past with you and how Fiona’s became entwined with mine.” Jo gave her a serious look and then ran a forefinger across the line of her jaw, leaving Tessa’s flesh heated with its trail. “I’m afraid if you hear the story, you’ll think differently of me. I don’t have a nice past.”

  Tessa could see emotions warred within Jo. Much as Tessa wanted to know of her past, she didn’t want to be the one to cause Jo more pain. It was enough for now, but Tessa knew they wouldn’t be able to sustain a healthy relationship without total disclosure. Tessa would also have to share her history with Catherine. What she asked was, “So Fiona healed well enough to travel?”

  “Yes, but it was a trial. We were all battling our individual and shared demons,” Jo gave her a strange look and lowered her voice, “our common deviances, except for Brigid, who’s normal. And we were looking into an unknown future.”

  Ah-hah. Tessa did have the right of it about Fiona and Margaret and with Jo’s possible interest in her. A bit of her tension released. “How long ago was this?”

  “About four years, maybe a bit more.”

  “Well, you all seem to do well for yourselves. You’re as normal as any family. But there’s something still bothering you, isn’t there?” Was Tessa pushing Jo too hard? Insinuating herself in her need to be part of Jo’s life.

  Jo took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled loudly. “When we left Boston, Fiona had just undergone serious surgery, been in a coma for over a week. But it seems despite the healing she accomplished, another matter was hidden. I don’t know if the doctors missed something, or we’re on borrowed time with Fiona’s good health. We didn’t know then,” Jo’s voice cracked. “But now—”

  Tessa hadn’t seen Jo’s quick emotional reaction coming. Her arms flew around Tessa’s shoulders and buried her face in Tessa’s neck. Tessa felt the warm dampness of tears. Jo’s silent sobs tore at her heart. “Jo, honey, it’s all right, I’ve got you. If you don’t want to talk anymore, we won’t. I never intended to upset you like this.”

  After a few long—somehow not long enough—moments more, Jo moved away, pulled the ever-present handkerchief from her back pocket, and angrily wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. “Guess you think I’m a big baby, don’t you? I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’ve spent a lot of time learning self-control, so I’m not sure why I’m so emotional with you.”

  Tessa felt the moment Jo tried to pull away. She latched an arm around Jo’s waist and held her close. “I hope it’s because you’re comfortable enough to trust me and trust in me. Thank you for sharing something so personal. I’m sorry if I brought pain to you somehow.”

  “Nah, I’ve wanted to talk to somebody about how worried I am. Fiona’s sitting on the ledge of anxious and probably obsessing about this, and Margaret isn’t supposed to know until Fiona has thought it through in enough detail to tell Margaret what’s wrong.”

  Tessa knew she shouldn’t be so focused on the comfort she felt with Jo’s warm body pressed into hers, vaguely aware her fingertips drew circles on Jo’s hip. If it weren’t for the depth of Jo’s emotions, Tessa would want to stay clasped like this forever. “Well, if you ever feel you can trust me with your secret, I’m glad and willing to listen.” Tessa didn’t know how long they sat together, neither getting anything accomplished.

  A niggling in the back of her mind worried Warren could walk in on them anytime. Tessa didn’t want this moment to end. And for an odd second, Tessa realized she never had one of these moments with Catherine Dubois. She wanted many more with Jo.

  Barely able to hear, Jo whispered, “Fiona might be seriously sick.”

  “What makes you believe that?” Tessa asked.

  “She’s been getting a lot of migraines, and she’s had moments where she can’t see.” Jo swallowed hard. “Heck, she probably wouldn’t have told me, but there was an episode when we were working in the barn. That’s our workshop.” Jo’s gaze became unfocused, stared at what may be a memory. “She was working with the electric saw, cutting up pieces of wood we’d measured for one of the projects, a hope chest we’re building. I’m not sure what made me stop work and look up then. But when I saw the pain on her face, and then the fear as she just stood there, as if she wanted but not sure how to do something important. When I walked over to her, Fiona’s hands were shaking. I wondered why she didn’t turn off the power.” Jo shook her head slightly. “I teased her. The look on her face when Fiona admitted she couldn’t see, didn’t know where the switch was without taking her hand off the machine.”

  Tessa softened her voice when she said, “The teasing may have helped take some of the tension from her, Jo. It’s a good thing you were there for her.”

  Jo sniffed. “Kind of my point. What if I hadn’t been? How long would Fiona have been forced to stand there, holding the saw, waiting for her sight to return long enough to turn the power off and safely put the saw down? What if that had been the time her vision didn’t come back?”

  “So, it does come back?” Tessa asked. Now, her first meeting with Fiona here at the shop, before and after the mishap with Thomas, became clearer. Jo believed Fiona had become more fragile, waited for the straw that would break her. Take the family pillar from them.

  “So far. But the migraines are getting worse and more frequent. And, Fiona’s episodes of blindness are lasting a little longer each time.” Jo blinked, then focused on Tessa. “I’m sorry, Tessa. I shouldn’t lose all this on you. It’s just I want to do something for her, and I feel helpless. I don’t know what to do.”

  Tessa released Jo’s waist and u
sed both hands to hold one of Jo’s. “Seems to me you love Fiona very much. And Fiona fighting her helplessness, which I guess I understand is difficult for her, has created the same feelings for you.”

  “We’d do anything for her. She’s given up so much for us. Shared so much with us to become a true family.”

  “But it’s frustrating because Fiona doesn’t realize this, right? She doesn’t see this the sharing from the loving family she built, that she should rely on you. Maybe the hardship is Fiona sees herself as becoming a burden to you all?” Jo nodded to each question. “I wish I could give you sage advice, Jo. But Fiona needs to come to terms with this before she can accept any form of intervention.”

  Jo snorted. “Stubborn as she is, realizing it may come too late.”

  “I get the feeling you’re her mirror image there.” Tessa used the pad of her thumb to wipe a stray tear from Jo’s face. She loved the feel of Jo’s flesh, soft and warm, where the rest of her exuded strength. Tessa stood and then reached out her hands for Jo until they were face to face. “Fiona seems a strong and capable woman. You should give her a little more time. I have faith she’ll do what’s right before it’s too late. I also have faith Fiona knows you’re there for her, and she will come to you and Margaret when she’s ready.”

  “Yeah, guess you’re right.” Jo gave her a small grin. “Worrying now isn’t getting your carpentry work done, either. Sorry ‘bout this.”

  “There’s no hurry, Jo. I can do my original work without opening the shop for the new business.”

  “Maybe, but a major part of your income is in selling the pretty stuff in boxes in the storeroom.” Jo leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Tessa’s forehead. “Thank you for the tasty cookie and the talk.”

  “I’m always here for you, Jo.” No sooner had the words escaped her lips, honest as they were, Tessa wondered if she’d said too much, gone too far in their new relationship.

  Jo nodded and quirked the corner of her lips into a smile. She swiped another cookie from the plate. “An admission and invitation I won’t forget either, honey. Thank you.” Jo winked and stuffed half the treat into her mouth.

  Tessa’s heart hammered in her chest. Did Jo mean to call her honey? Had she meant the word as an honest endearment? Or only been a slip of the tongue, buddy to buddy? Oh, please, let it be more than a casual word.

  “Tessa?” Jo gave her a thoughtful and nervous stare. “Would you be my girl?”

  Surprised, Tessa stared for a moment. “I would like that very much, Jo.” Jo grinned wide, nodded, and returned to work. Tessa smiled too, as she picked up the snack dishes and brought them upstairs to wash. I’m Jo Cavanaugh’s girl. Happiness filled her entire body.

  Chapter Six

  Margaret watched as Nicholas walked to Fiona and, after a short pause, sat on the bench beside her. The school year would end in little more than a month. Could whatever matter bothering Fiona wait that long? She didn’t know what concerned Fiona but hoped Nicholas could somehow get Fiona to share—even if she weren’t the one privy to the problem first. She frowned, tried to decipher what secret Fiona kept from her. Margaret loved Fiona with all her heart, and, although they’d been busy with their respective careers and lives, she didn’t believe the chasm too lengthy to cross. Was she wrong? Should she be more worried?

  Jo wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “You okay?” Margaret nodded. “You aren’t worried about Fiona and Nicholas having a tryst, are you?

  “No, not at all,” Margaret said, grateful for Jo’s attempt to lighten her mood. “That’s the farthest thought. I’m hoping whatever is upsetting Fiona, Nicholas can get to the bottom of it before Fiona cracks.” She felt Jo stiffen beside her. Margaret turned, grasped Jo’s hands, and gave a smile. “I suspect you know what the matter is but are sworn to secrecy.”

  “It’s nothing to do with—”

  “I don’t believe it has anything to do with our relationship, Jo,” she lied. “I wish she’d be less worried about upsetting me, and more focused on letting me shoulder some of the burdens, her burdens.”

  Jo sighed. “I believe she will soon. Fiona needs to work it out in her head first.” She smiled and added, “Then it’s family meeting time, and all will be clear.”

  Yes, a family meeting to work out the finer details of the situation, and each could move on in a consolidated mission. Any other time, anyone else, they would have had the meeting by now. The delay is what worried and, if she were honest with herself, panicked her, and gave credence to Margaret’s fear this problem would be monumental. Would she be prepared for Fiona’s revelation? She hoped so because this distance Fiona put between them broke her heart. Margaret missed her wife. How much longer before she got her loving Fiona back?

  Enough of this, Margaret silently chided herself. It was near the end of another school year for her, another group of third graders ready to move on to the fourth grade. She started what became a tradition in her first year of teaching to applaud the students for finishing the grade level while ushering in the summer break. She’d offered finger sandwiches and snacks, which Brigid prepared and baked, respectively, with lemonade and iced tea for the first two years. The offering quickly morphed into a barbecue setting and had the parents bringing the snacks.

  Also, this occasion provided a means to meet some of the adults in the community, while it opened avenues for Fiona and Jo to better integrate into their new home. The effort provided mixed results. Jo realized no one could know of her past unless she told them, so she blended in almost seamlessly.

  Fiona had a harder time integrating. She was too conscious of her healing body and the facial scars she perceived to be hideous.

  Margaret tried to explain they by no means disfigured, but Fiona was too self-conscious of them. It wasn’t until she slipped away—much like now—into the barn, converted into a workshop when one of the parents (either concerned or curious) followed. Fiona’s standard way to release stress was wood carving. When the parent peaked into the barn, he not only witnessed Fiona carve a pattern into the pie chest she’d built, but all the other woodwork she’d crafted. Up to that point, Fiona had sold a couple of pieces to local businesses on a commission basis. Since the man walked inside, much to Fiona’s consternation, Fiona was hard-pressed to keep up with the demand for work. All because of the man’s praises he shared with others.

  Of course, the incident also prompted the verbal requirement for an invitation into her workshop—for safety sake, Fiona insisted. Now people drove down from as far as Denver to place an order for a piece of specialized woodwork. The incident helped bring Fiona out of her shell, gave her more self-assuredness. And yet here they were, Margaret worried as Fiona pulled away emotionally again.

  Margaret must’ve telegraphed her concern in her body because Jo squeezed her waist and said, “She’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay.”

  She wondered if it were true. Margaret held a nagging premonition balled in the pit of her stomach that life would get worse before it improved. With the smile Margaret strained to wear, she said, “What about you, sweetie? Has your friend Tessa arrived?”

  Jo scowled. “No, not yet. Her brother insisted he would bring her when I offered to pick her up. Don’t know what he suspected would happen between us once all alone.” Jo gave a derisive snort. “Guess not even your professional safety blanket as a schoolteacher can make that man like me.”

  Margaret leaned her head against Jo’s shoulder. “Trust me, honey, it’s his loss. You are more spectacular than even we suspected you’d turn out to be.”

  “You have to say that, I know where you sleep,” Jo said, then chuckled.

  Margaret tapped the hand still at her waist. “You and Fiona are so alike. Often it’s kinda scary.”

  Richard skipped up to them, interrupting Jo. “A lady’s looking for you, so I bringed her.”

  “Brought her,” Margaret corrected automatically. As Jo dropped her arm, picked up Ri
chard, and perched him on her hip, they turned to see Tessa and Brigid headed their way. Brigid flashed a mock scowl at Richard, who giggled in response. Tessa, whose expression mimicked absolute comportment initially, beamed in delight once her gaze landed on Jo. Oh my, Margaret thought excitedly. Jo’s feelings weren’t one-sided, after all.

  “You were supposed to walk with us, you little scamp,” Brigid said to a grinning Richard. Away from his condescending and grumpy mother, Richard was cheerful and precocious. They all enjoyed the time he spent with them, but Margaret knew that to be truer for Brigid. Even as the family disliked Ethel’s abuse of Brigid’s generosity of time, Brigid fairly beamed into life when with the little boy. Brigid stretched her arms toward Richard, who promptly switched from Jo’s hip to hers. “As you can see, Jo, your guest has arrived, so I’ll take this rascal off your hands—or hip as it were—and get him a plate before he fills up on cookies.”

  “But your cookies are the bestest,” Richard said.

  Brigid smiled, even as she feigned indignation. “Flattery won’t get you another until you’ve had your lunch. Excuse us, please.” Brigid spun on her heel and headed to the house. Richard beamed, with his arms possessively wrapped around Brigid’s neck.

  Margaret’s attention returned to Jo and Tessa, who stared and smiled but hadn’t budged toward or away from each other. Oh goodness, Margaret thought with the equivalent of a mental eye roll, I hope Fiona and I weren’t like this when we courted. The observation brought a stab of pain to her heart. Of course not, they hadn’t resembled them at all, their courtship mired in danger, death, and disguises. Well, Fiona’s disguise anyway.