Free Wild Texas Rose by Jodi Thomas Page B

case. Or maybe I should run. Her father didn’t even meet me, but he sent a man to threaten me if I ever tried to see her again. I’m too much a coward to do either. If I talk to her, she’ll just tell me why this newspaperman is a better choice than me, and if I run I won’t ever see her again. I’m in hell.”
    Abe shook his head. “You’re right, Killian. You are a fool and you shouldn’t talk about your problems. We should have stayed on mine. To tell the truth, I don’t blame your dead brother for not speaking to you. I swear, Killian, your problem makes my brain hurt.”
    Abe decided not to bother the ghost with any questions either. Who knows, he might be as drunk as his brother.
    There seemed no solution to O’Toole’s mess, and all Abe wanted to do was kiss the teacher again.
    Smiling to himself, Abe let his thoughts wander down that road. He’d liked the way she’d felt against him. He wouldn’t mind doing that again as long as she was willing.
    “Well?” Killian broke into Abe’s daydreams. “Any advice for me other than stay drunk until the wedding is over?”
    Abe gave it a shot. “Yeah. Grab her and kiss her. What have you got to lose?”
    Both men laughed, knowing that the world was no longer ruled with logic.
    They finished off the coffee and talked about how cold it was getting. Abe never asked details about the bride-to-be and Killian never offered any. The shopkeeper might have his nightmares to live with, but he had a feeling Killian had his own share of demons to fight.
    A little before twilight they watched the schoolteacher walk down the street on her way home from church. She didn’t so much as glance in their direction. Not once.
    “You sure you kissed her, Abe?”
    Abe didn’t bother to answer. He could almost taste her. The need to hold her again ached all the way through his body. She’d come to him twice, and he guessed she’d come again but not tonight.
    Killian emptied his flask and wandered off, saying something about going back to his hotel to sleep. The judge was still a long way from being drunk, but Abe had a feeling he’d get there by midnight.
    Abe went inside and collected his tools and the extra key he kept to the schoolhouse.
    Slowly, he made his way across the street to put up the blackboard. This would be the only way he’d feel near her tonight.
    As he worked, the setting sun weakened, and finally he stopped to light the lamp. He found a tin of matches high on a shelf behind the teacher’s desk. He smiled.
Smart,
he thought.
Out of reach of any children.
    As he pulled the tin down, a polished wooden carton about the size of a cigar box tumbled with the matches to the floor. He picked them both up and lit the lamp, then looked inside the box to see what might be so dangerous that she kept it tucked away on the top shelf. He found a few pages of inexpensive stationery and several cards postmarked from Maryland, along with a thin little notebook.
    Abe knew he shouldn’t, but he turned the first page and scanned down a list of things she planned for the year.
Work harder with Tim on his penmanship. Try to get school board to allot more money for supplies. Save money for a visit home by next summer
.
    Then there was her “never” list for the year.
Never sleep before the grading is done. Never eat the boardinghouse fish. Never lose my temper at Mr. Henderson
.
    Abe smiled and read on, but he wasn’t mentioned again.
    When he turned the page, he saw the “dream” list for the New Year:
Be more open to tasting life. Have an adventure. Allow someone else to make decisions now and then. Don’t always have to be in control.
    He stared at the page for a while, knowing that she couldn’t have written them long ago. Maybe only a day or two before he’d kissed her.
    He flipped through the stationery to where she’d written the beginning of a letter to her mother.
    Dear Mom
, she’d started.
I promise I’ll try to make it home this year. I miss you terribly. I