A Mother at Heart (15 page)

She didn't move, didn't reply, only held him more tightly.

Jake bent over and brushed his lips over her shoulder, then nudged her head aside with his chin. She looked up at him. Their faces were so close, he could feel her breath, could feel the warmth of her burning cheeks.

And then he kissed her.

It was like coming home after a hard day. It was like a drink of water after a long thirst.

They belonged together, and as he kissed her, it was as if she had never left. That familiar touch, taste and feel. She felt right in his arms, as no other girl ever had.

Her lips were cool and soft, and as his mouth
moved over hers, he reached up to stroke her cheek, run his fingers through her hair.

She murmured his name, her own hands caressing his shoulders.

Reluctantly he pulled away. With his forefinger he traced the exquisite line of her eyebrow, the softness of her cheek, her lips.

She closed her eyes as he touched her, her hands tightening on his waist.

“What are you doing to me, Jake?” she sighed.

“Trying to show you what you mean to me.” He pulled her close again, content just to hold her. He knew she hadn't made any declaration to him, and wondered if she would. He didn't want to force anything out of her, but his own heart ached to hear something—some kind of confirmation of how she felt. He knew she felt something. She wouldn't have let him hold her, kiss her, if she didn't.

He just wished he knew what.

“Jake, tell me. Tell me in words.”

He heard a yearning in her voice and wondered if she was even aware of it. “I love you more the longer you stay here.” He touched her hair, his fingers playing with the soft waves. “I'm not that good with words. But when you're with me, I feel like all the things that were missing are here. I feel like holding you is what I was meant to do from the moment I was born. That this is part of my purpose in life.”

She moved her face against his shirt, as if caressing him with her cheek. “Jake,” she said softly. That was all. Just his name, but it held much more. She drew back, still holding him. She looked deep into
his eyes; then her gaze traveled over his face, as if memorizing it. “You're the only man I ever loved. Ever.”

Her words rocked through him, taking his breath away.

“I know it sounds silly,” she continued, “but it's true. I had to tell you.”

“Oh, Miriam. Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say those words?” He wanted to kiss her again, wanted to shout the news to the world. “Miriam, I think I've waited long enough. I have to ask you. Will you marry me?”

He felt a tremor in her arms as she clung to him. Her eyes opened wide and then slowly shut. She shook her head.

“Not that, Jake. Not that.”

“What do you mean?” He felt as if all the breath had been pressed from him. He had just opened his heart to her, made himself as vulnerable as he had ever done with any woman, and now she sounded as if she hadn't wanted to hear it.

She caught him around his neck and pulled his head down to hers, kissing him hard. For a moment he let her. For a moment he pretended that she returned his feelings for her. But then, sensing her confusion, he carefully drew away.

“Miriam, what's wrong?”

She said nothing, only laid her head against his chest again. “Nothing.”

He knew better, but also sensed that, for now, he didn't want to explore her reticence. She was in his arms. She had said nothing about his proposal. It still
hung between them, and he didn't dare bring it up again. He felt a shiver of panic, wondering if she was still figuring on leaving tomorrow.

He didn't want to think about it. He remembered how willingly she had come into his arms. Remembered that she had told him she loved him, too.

She shivered, and Jake straightened. The moment was passed and nothing had happened. Disappointment crushed him, and he could say nothing to her as they walked back.

People were grouped together, visiting. Some were watching the little children getting their faces painted. Somehow, on their way back, Miriam drifted away from him, and Jake let her go.

He was confused and hurt and didn't know where to go from here.
Okay, Lord. I opened my heart to her, told her exactly what my intentions were. Help me to understand what is happening. Work in her heart. I know she needs to be here. I know she belongs here. Help her to see that.

Jake wanted to leave right away, but Taryn was getting her face painted, and he knew it would look very rude if he suddenly left. So he hung around, made meaningless conversation, and all the while tried not to look out for Miriam.

“T
here you are.”

Miriam turned with a start to face her friend, Donna.

“Taryn's not feeling well,” Donna said, frowning. “She's been asking for you.”

“Where's Jake?” Miriam didn't want to go. She didn't want to run the risk of seeing Jake so soon after turning down his proposal.

“I can't find him. I thought he'd be with you. Besides, it's you she wants. C'mon.” Donna tugged on her arm and glancing around one more time, Miriam followed.

“But she was fine just half an hour ago.” A lifetime ago, she thought.

“I wouldn't worry about it, Miriam. Goodness, you sound like a guilty mother.” Donna nudged her in the side. “I know exactly what you were doing. You don't need to look so guilty.”

Miriam couldn't stop the flush that warmed her cheeks. It was as if everyone here knew exactly what had happened for that short while that she and Jake had disappeared.

She felt her stomach tighten at the thought of his proposal. What was she supposed to do now? How could she go back to New York, how could she continue a life that she disliked, knowing that everything she wanted was here—but how could she stay and accept Jake's proposal? How could she make her financial problems his? She couldn't.

“What's the matter, Miriam? You look so sad.”

Miriam was tempted to tell her. But she had spent too many years taking care of herself, and confession didn't come easily to her.

“I'm okay. I'm just worried about Taryn,” she lied.

“Well she's just over here, lying down.” Donna brought Miriam to where Taryn lay, curled up on a blanket. She sat up when Miriam approached, and Miriam could see how flushed her cheeks were, past the bright flowers painted on them.

“What's the matter, Pipper?” Miriam asked, crouching down at the little girl's side.

“My head hurts again.”

Miriam laid a hand on her forehead and was surprised to feel how hot it was. “But you seemed fine this morning,” she said aloud. Then she remembered how the child had slept on Jake's lap in church. That wasn't normal for Taryn. That much Miriam knew.

“I'll go get Jake. He might want to take her home,” Donna said, getting up.

Miriam sat down and drew Taryn onto her lap, cradling her warm body close. What had she done, leaving her like this, going off with Jake like some teenager? How could she be so irresponsible?

She's not my little girl, she thought. Miriam stroked Taryn's hair back from her face. It didn't matter. She shouldn't have left.

Taryn said nothing, just lay there, adding to Miriam's guilt. Then Jake rushed to her side, falling down on one knee beside them. He also laid his hand on Taryn's forehead, and met Miriam's eyes.

“I feel terrible,” Miriam said. “She just doesn't feel well.”

“Let me take her. I think she'd better go home.”

Taryn protested as Jake tried to take her away from Miriam's arms. “No. I want Miriam.” The little girl clung to Miriam, and there was nothing she could do.

Jake helped Miriam up and tried once more, unsuccessfully, to make Taryn come to him.

“I'll bring her to your truck,” Miriam said.

“I wanna go in your car. You said so.” Taryn lifted her head, her expression downcast. “I wanna go in your car.”

Miriam didn't know why Taryn was being so stubborn. A combination of not feeling well and just plain Taryn, she figured.

“I used my truck to bring the tables here,” Jake said as they walked down to where they had parked the vehicles. “I imagine they'll need it to bring them back to the church.”

“I'll get my husband to bring your truck to your
place,” Donna offered. “Why don't you just get Taryn home. We'll make sure your truck gets back.”

Jake shot her a grateful smile and turned back to Miriam. “So we'll take your car, then, if that's okay?”

“Fine. Of course.” She shifted Taryn so that the child was easier to hold.

They walked slowly down to the car, Jake beside Miriam, supporting her as they walked. She hadn't realized how heavy Taryn was. When they got to the car, Jake took the keys from her, unlocked her door and helped her in.

Then he got in on the driver's side, and they were off. They drove in silence.

Miriam couldn't look at him, but she was remembering his declaration of love. His proposal. She closed her eyes, laying her head on Taryn's, unable to think of the implications of what he had said to her.

By the time they got to Fred and Tilly's house, Taryn was asleep again, her body burning up with fever. This time, Jake took her from Miriam and carried her into the house. Miriam followed behind.

Tilly was sleeping in the recliner when they walked through the living room on their way upstairs. She sat up with a jolt when she saw them.

“What's the matter?” She got up, rubbing her eyes.

“Taryn's not feeling good,” Jake said tersely as he strode up the stairs.

“She feels like she has a fever,” Miriam added,
waiting for Tilly to join her. Together they went upstairs.

Jake was stripping Taryn out of her clothes and putting her in her pajamas. “She's just burning up,” Jake said, slipping the nightgown over her head.

“Let's take her temperature.” Tilly walked to the bathroom and found a thermometer. She cleaned it, and shook it as she brought it back to the bedroom. Taryn was sitting up, her eyes looking glazed, her cheeks a vivid red.

“Here, honey, open up.” Tilly put the thermometer in her mouth, and the three adults waited.

Miriam felt slightly out of place, standing here, but she didn't want to go. She felt partially responsible, even though common sense told her that Taryn had probably already been coming down with this bug last night.

Tilly took the thermometer out and tried to read it. She handed it to Jake, who read out, “One hundred and three.”

“That's high,” Miriam said, chewing her lip. “Shouldn't we give her something for that?”

“I have some children's medication we can give her,” Tilly said, sighing lightly. “Jake, you go downstairs and get a spoon for me.” When they left, Miriam sat down beside Taryn, who was fretting.

“My head is sore, Miriam. How come my head is sore?”

“You have a fever. That means there's something bad in your blood, and the good cells are fighting it. That's why you're hot.”

Taryn nodded and curled up on the bed. “I'm tired.”

“Your grandma is getting you something that will help take down the fever,” Miriam said, stroking her hair away from her forehead. Just then Tilly came in the room with a bottle and a glass of water, and Jake came with a spoon. Miriam took the bottle and measured out the dosage according to the instructions on the bottle. “Here, open wide.”

Taryn obeyed and then pulled a face. She grabbed for the glass of water and gulped it down. Then, with a sigh, she lay down again.

Miriam adjusted the blankets around her, as Jake pulled the blinds down over the window. Miriam stroked Taryn's cheek once, and then left.

Tilly brought the medicine back to the bathroom then followed Jake and Miriam down the stairs. Back in the living room, she dropped into her recliner. “Oh, Jake, Simon called. Said it was important. He'll call you again tonight.”

“What did he want?”

“Didn't say.”

“How's Dad?” Jake asked.

Tilly just shook her head. “Not good. I don't know what to do. I might have to take him to the doctor again, tomorrow.”

“You look tired, Tilly.”

“I am.” She sighed and closed her eyes again.

Miriam sat down on the couch and couldn't help but glance at the clock. She was shocked to see that it was already five o'clock—almost suppertime. “What did you have for lunch, Tilly?”

“I didn't feel like making lunch.”

Miriam glanced at Jake, then got up. “I'll get some supper together for you. I'm sure Fred should have something.”

“He says he's not hungry.”

Miriam heard the note of despair in her voice and walked to her side. She bent over and kissed Tilly lightly. “I'll see what he wants, and I'll take care of it. You just sit here.”

Tilly smiled up at her and caught her hand. “Thanks, child. You are special.”

Miriam doubted that, but the words warmed her heart, anyway.

Fred was awake when she peeked into his bedroom. He looked haggard and worn. When Miriam asked if he wanted anything, he said no.

“What about some soup?”

“I don't know.”

“I'm going to take that as a yes. And Jake is going to make sure you eat it all,” she warned before she left the room.

Back in the kitchen, Miriam wondered what she had gotten herself into. She wanted to leave, but how could she with Fred and Taryn sick? So Miriam found a recipe that she knew was Fred's favorite. It was also easy to make. Quick potato soup.

Luckily there were some leftover potatoes in the fridge, and soon Miriam had the ingredients together and was adding them one at a time to the pot on the stove.

She was just stirring the grated cheese into the soup when she saw Jake leaning on the counter be
side her. She didn't want to look at him, but couldn't stop herself. How easy it was to lose herself in those eyes, to let herself drift toward him.

His hand on her arm stopped her, and she turned her attention back to the soup, stirring it as if everything important to her was in that pot.

Then he left her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. This wasn't turning out at all the way she had planned. She was supposed to be leaving tomorrow, and each encounter with Jake tested her resolve. She had no right to encourage him. But she was weak, lonely—and in love with a man she couldn't have. Shouldn't have.

Miriam swallowed, praying for strength.
This isn't fair, Lord. This just isn't fair. To give him back to me and make him so unattainable at the same time.

Jake sat with Fred while he ate, and Tilly and Miriam sat in the kitchen. Taryn was sleeping, still fitfully. She would until the fever broke, Tilly informed Miriam.

Miriam knew absolutely nothing about childhood illnesses and was worried sick. She couldn't understand why neither Tilly nor Jake were sitting upstairs with her at this very minute.

The dishes were done, Tilly had gone to bed and the medication Taryn had taken was starting to kick in when Miriam decided to go. She tidied up the living room, delaying the inevitable, yet knowing she was playing a dangerous game. She wanted to see Jake again.

He came downstairs after checking on Taryn, and
when he saw her in the living room he paused at the bottom of the stairs. “So, I guess you have to go?”

Miriam nodded, still clutching a newspaper she had found on the floor.

He shoved his hands through his hair and sighed. “I know this is going to sound terribly improper, but I have to leave early in the morning to finish seeding.” He hesitated, biting his lip. “I was wondering if you would mind staying here tonight, just until Tilly gets up. I'm worried about Taryn…” He let the sentence trail off, and at that moment Miriam could see utter weariness in his eyes.

“I'll stay, Jake.”

“Thanks.” His eyes met hers and he slowly walked over.

He was going to kiss her, she knew that.

He didn't even touch her—just bent over, his lips lightly caressing hers.

“I still love you, Miriam. I want to marry you.”

She laid a finger on his lips to forestall him, her heart contracting with pain. “Please, Jake. Don't make this any harder for me than it already is.”

“Don't make what harder?”

“Leaving.”

She saw the stricken look on his face. She lowered her gaze as if to erase the memory, then felt his hands on her shoulders again.

“Jake.” She couldn't stop herself. “I love you, I do. But I can't be what you want me to be.” She felt her face twist with sorrow. “I can't be the kind of mother that Taryn needs. I thought I could, but when I saw Donna with her children I realized how
little I knew. I don't fit here.” She drew in a shaky breath, curled her fingers around each other. What she said was partly true. But she couldn't tell him about her debt.

“Where do you fit, Miriam?” He asked the question softly as he drew her in his arms. “If you don't fit here, why do you think you'll fit in a place that you don't want to go back to? I know you don't. I see the look on your face when you talk about your work.”

Miriam bit her lip, resisting the urge to lay her head on his chest, to let him take all her problems and fix them. But it would be putting even more on his shoulders than he already carried. It wasn't fair to him, and if she truly loved him she would leave. She knew it was the only way.

Jake tightened his hold on her, caressed her head with his chin. “I won't stop loving you, Miriam. So where does that leave me?”

He took a step back, lifted her chin with his finger and laid a gentle kiss on her lips. “Think about that when you're heading back east.”

Miriam swayed as he stepped back. She wrapped her arms about her waist again, her chin down. She couldn't look at him. Couldn't tell him. She knew how important his family was, this farm. It was the first place he had told her that he felt he belonged. She couldn't jeopardize that. If they were to get married, her debt would become his. It was too much.

Silence again. A dark, intense silence that kept them apart.

“I'll set out some towels for you,” Jake said, then turned and left.

Miriam watched him go back upstairs, his tall figure disappearing from view. He didn't look back.

Confusion tortured her thoughts. She knew she had to stay. She couldn't leave tomorrow. Not with Fred so sick, Taryn not feeling well and Tilly so exhausted. There was no way she could simply drive away and leave Jake to carry this.