Copyright 2010 Nancy J. Parra All Rights Reserved.

     “Scold me?”  Lillian moved around the display of canned peaches.  “What ever for?”

     “For keeping that beautiful man to yourself.” Joyce came over to the counter.  “Honey, I had no idea your man was so handsome.” She put her hand on her chest again.  “I swear when he introduced himself I nearly fell out of my chair.”

     “I’m sorry?  I don’t…”

     “Your Donovan,” Joyce said.  “He came into the barbershop this afternoon for a trim.  He had everyone abuzz. Seems he is quite the war hero.”

     “My Donovan?”  Lillian repeated. 

     “Your husband, silly.” Joyce playfully slapped Lillian’s arm.  “Here we were all thinking he’d actually abandoned you, what with him taking so long to give up his commission and come home.” 

     “My husband went into the barbershop today.”  It was preposterous of course.  Donovan West did not exist, Lillian made him up.  There was no way he could get a haircut. “My husband, Donovan West?”

     “Yes, silly, your husband.  What other Donovan West would there be?”

     A chill ran down Lillian’s spine and pooled funny in her stomach.  “There wouldn’t be another Donovan West,” she said, fervently as if a prayer.  Which it was.  There was no way on God’s green earth there was a real Donovan West, was there?

     “Of course not,” Joyce said.  “You look a little pale, are you all right?”

     “I’m fine. I think I’m going to sit down a moment,” Lillian found the stool behind the counter.  “When exactly did Donovan come into the barbershop?  I mean, his last letter told me he had orders to head south and stop an uprising.”

     “Oh, honey, he came in after dinner.  Said he had a pocket full of silver and thought he’d get cleaned up a bit before he surprised…” Joyce paused, her eyes widening.  “Oh, my, I went and spoiled his surprise now, didn’t I?”

     “Oh, I don’t think so,” Lillian said.  “I’m pretty much surprised.  Is he still at the barbershop?”

     “Last I knew.”

     “Would you watch the store for me a moment?” Lillian shot up off the stool.  If there was one thing being an orphan had taught her, it was that adversity was something to be met head on.  She refused to hole up in her shop and wring her hands in worry.  No sirreee, she was going to face this man and call his bluff outright.

     She didn’t give Joyce a chance to answer as she raced out.  The barbershop was next door and she needed to keep going before she changed her mind.  After all this had to be a bad joke, right? It wasn’t April Fools day, but Joyce could tell some tales.

     She stormed down the board walk and into the barbershop and she stopped short.  Four men looked up from what they were doing and stared.  The barbershop wasn’t a place for women at least not usually.

     She looked at each man.  Which one was the man claiming to be her husband?  She dismissed the two playing checkers right off.  Tom and John Peckich were brothers and came in every Monday while their Ma did laundry.  Mr. Huckabee stood behind the barber chair.  That left only one man.  A tall and lanky gentleman with hair the color of aspen leaves in the fall.     He watched her with an unsettling intensity in his deep green eyes.  She swallowed the tiniest fracture of fear when his gaze ran over her.

     “Hello,” he smiled a bit too knowingly.

     “Lillian, what brings you to the barbershop?”  Mr. Huckabee asked with a twinkle in his kind eyes. 

     “Joyce told me my husband was here,” Lillian said firmly.  Or at least she thought it was firm, but it might have come out more like a whisper.  Her heart pounded so loud she wasn’t sure of anything.  She couldn’t take her eyes off the lanky man who had settled into the barber chair.

     “You just missed him,” Mr. Huckabee lathered soap in his shaving mug and applied it to the man’s face. 

     “I missed him?”  Lillian’s mouth was dry. So, the handsome stranger wasn’t claiming to be her husband.  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“He said something about stopping by the feed store.”

     “The feed store?” she echoed feeling a tad bit foolish.  The man in the barber chair winked at her and it startled her enough to make her stop staring.  What was wrong with everybody today?  She swallowed hard and concentrated on the barber’s bald pate.  “He was heading to the feed store?”
     “That’s what he said.”

     “Why?”

     “Guess you’ll have to ask him.” The barber sharpened his razor on the strop that hung on the side of the chair.  “Sure was nice to finally meet him though.”

     “Are you sure you weren’t mistaken?” When the men looked at her funny, she stumbled on.  “I mean, my husband is supposed to be fighting and uprising south of Colorado Springs.  I thought I’d be the first to know if he weren’t.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Huckabee said.  “Now he did say something about his arrival being a surprise an all.” He finished shaving the man and pulled a hot towel out of the container that sat on top of the potbelly stove. Then he gingerly placed it on the stranger’s face.  “Seems like my Joyce jumped the gun a bit on that one, sorry to spoil it for you.  Don’t worry though, I’m sure he’s headed to the store right now to see you.”

“Don’t worry,” she couldn’t stop herself from muttering.  There was a man running around town impersonating her husband and she wasn’t to worry about it.  Right.  “Good day, gentlemen.”

She left the barbershop not knowing what to do.  It would be easy to spend the rest of the day chasing down a man calling himself her husband.  She’d make a fool of herself all right if she did that.  Why the whole time he could be standing right beside her and she wouldn’t even know it. 

A glance across the street told her that everyone at the tea room had noted her progress in and out of the barbershop.  She forced herself to smile and wave.  The ladies looked away quickly.

Lillian shook her head, angry at herself for running willy-nilly into the male sanctuary and giving the town something to talk about.  She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, seemed like the best course of action now was to do nothing.

After all this was probably one big bad joke.  Mr. and Mrs. Huckabee could really pull a good one if they wanted too.  The thing to do was go back to work and pretend nothing had happened. 

Stewing, she uncrossed her arms and headed down the boardwalk.  It wasn’t all that far to go, down the boardwalk, across the alley, and then back up to the boardwalk that ran in front of the store but she felt eyes on her every step of the way.  Seems who ever claimed to be her husband had caused a big stir.  Well, she would correct that right away.  Let him come into the store, her store, and try to take over.  Why she’d—

“Darling!”

With her mind on other things, Lillian ran smack dab into a warm wall.  Strong hands held her by the shoulders, stopping her from bouncing backward.  She looked up into the deepest, bluest eyes she had ever seen and a shiver of something close to lightning ran from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes.

She blinked and opened her mouth to excuse herself.  The man with the deep blue eyes took that moment to pull her into his chest, bend down and kiss her full on the lips.  Shock followed the lightning in her system as she was assailed by the smell of bay rum warmed by male skin, the feel of strong muscle under her palms.

In that instant her thoughts froze like a rabbit spotting a fox.

It’s the only way she could explain what happened next. Instead of pushing him off and slapping his face, she closed her eyes.  For one moment she savored the unexpected and overwhelming sensuality and security of a man’s arms.