Chapter 33

Idiot

Adam reached the city limits without meeting the stage coach on its way out of town. Good. So there still was time. Just how much? He had to rein in his horse shortly after he passed Widow Hawkins’ house. The town’s main street was busily bustling, just like every Saturday morning, with housewives heading to the shops, Chinese washers delivering fresh laundry to their customers, buckboards supplying food to the hotels and bars, children chasing each other across the road, horses and men and dogs and—well, with nearly every citizen of Virginia City blocking his way.

Carefully avoiding collisions, he meandered his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes on the obstacles before him. His ears strained for the dreaded sound of the four-in-hand—but to no avail. Never before had he noticed how boisterous the town was. Horses were whinnying, people were calling, dogs were barking, children were yelling. There was a rumble from the many buckboards and buggies, hubbub from the saloons, noise from craftsmen, and the sound of his blood whooshing in his ears. The frenzied ride had left him breathless and wheezing, with his heart pounding frantically and a maelstrom of thoughts whirling in his head. He was too occupied with forcefully trying to will down the cacophony to register how suddenly the street emptied before him, how people hastened to give way, how someone shouted his name.

He heard the hoof beats through the ringing in his ears at the last moment and managed to get his horse and himself out of the way just in time. The stage coach thundered past him in a cloud of dust that seemed to obscure half of C Street from his view; and suddenly the turmoil focused, and there was only one single thought left: too late, I’m too late. He tried to get a last look inside the coach, but all he could glimpse through the cabin’s window was Jarvis Raymond’s pale face that bore no signs of recognition. Not that he minded that.

Adam remained there on the side of the street for a long time, staring after the stage coach and trying to accept what just had happened. His heartbeat slowed down, his breathing became steady and calm, and his mind went blank.

Numb. He was numb. Numb and empty and devastated and exhausted. He was an idiot, too. Biggest idiot ever to wander the world. He shook his head. Maybe I could write a letter. He snorted. No, no letter. He had no idea how to explain his idiocy to Juliet. There were no words in this world that could express how inadequate he felt, and how much like a blackguard. It was too late, anyway. Of course, he could make a complete fool out of himself and follow the coach. But why, if he would only find a smirking Jarvis and his newly-betrothed Juliet? No, he was an idiot, and this was all that he deserved for being an idiot.

He was startled by a quiet, insecure voice. “I could use some help here.”

He turned around slowly, not believing his ears. And there, over at the stage coach station where the smother had just settled down, covered with dust from head to toe, her hand pointing to the carpetbag beside her, there she was standing. The Queen of England, the most infuriating woman he had ever met, the most intriguing woman he had ever met, the storm-eyed lady, the woman he so foolishly had advised to leave, the idiot’s greatest desire: Juliet Heatherstone. Mylady.

Adam dismounted and ground tied his horse. With deliberate, slow steps he walked over to her. He stopped an arm’s length from her, searching her eyes for an answer, for an explanation he didn’t really need. But it was just incredible that she…

“You stayed,” he stated the obvious.

“I just…couldn’t…I—Adam, I thought you didn’t mind me leaving.” Juliet lowered her head and studied the ground, suddenly very interested in Virginia City’s trail dust. She kneaded her hands.

He wouldn’t screw it up again. “But I do mind. I don’t want you leaving, Juliet. I…I want you here. With me,” he said. With a finger under her chin he lifted her head. She held his gaze, but her lower lip was quavering.

“But you told me to leave,” she whispered. “You told me to leave.”

Adam looked down on his boots for a moment, sighing, then back up at her face. He gave her a half smile, and his best puppy-eyes. “Well, I’m an idiot sometimes,” he offered with a shrug; and when a smile slowly crept onto her face, he added softly, “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “Adam, I…” With her mouth opening and closing a few times, she obviously was at a loss for words. Well, there was a first time for everything, Adam mused.

He took a deep breath. “Mylady…” God, he was at a loss, too.

And then his hand was cupping her head and his lips were on hers, and she melted into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, and he, with his hand at the small of her back, pulled her even closer into his embrace. And it was in the middle of C Street, and there were people watching them, and they didn’t care at all because they were in a world of their own, and everything was well.

___________________________________________________________________

Make me immortal with a kiss. ~ Christopher Marlowe