Lorraine Heath (26 page)

Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she nodded her head. “I’m fine.” Then she felt compelled to add, “I didn’t know he was going to kiss me and when …”

His thumb fell to her swollen lips, so thoroughly kissed that even if he hadn’t seen, he would have known. “I know. I should have made my presence known sooner.” But he had wanted to hear her reason for staying, wishing now with all his heart that he hadn’t. He placed a light kiss on her forehead, realizing she needed time to herself. “I need to get back to the herd. Will you be all right?”

Sniffing, she nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

When he left, she took the skillet off the stove. Then she lay down on her bed, curled herself around her son and cried. Brett had come for her, but he had come too late.

Jake sat on the hill, looking out, but he didn’t see the ripples the wind created across the pond nor the playful shadows the sun threw against the earth. All he could see was how perfectly Rebecca’s body had melded against Brett’s, how well matched they were standing there together, ebony hair, blue eyes, facial features shaped to perfection by Someone’s loving hand. He had promised her
he’d do everything he could to see she had no regrets. He dropped his head, his chin resting against his chest, wondering if she’d be there when he got back.

The sky had turned a midnight black, a thousand stars lighting the velvet darkness before Jake returned. Rebecca lay in bed, her eyes aching and swollen. She heard the door open, heard him setting his boots beside the door, and even without his boots, she heard him walking across the floor, hesitating, and then continuing on past the hanging quilt. She listened as he removed his clothes and then stubbed his toe on something. His “dammit” was followed by a “shh!” as he scolded himself. And she smiled. Even when there was no one to notice, he was polite.

The bed dipped under his weight, and she knew he was leaning up on an elbow watching her. She had come to know so much about him since the night she had married him.

“I waited supper,” she said.

“One of the watering holes was poisoned. We had to move the cattle.”

“How many did you lose?” she asked. “We lost four.”

She was hugging the far side of the bed, lying on her side with her back to him. Any other time, she would have shot up in bed, angered that someone would poison a watering hole, any watering hole. He reached out, placing a hand on her waist.

She sighed. “I’m really tired, Jake.”

He withdrew his hand, rolling over to his other side, his back to her. He had only wanted to hold her. He knew she wouldn’t want to make love with him after seeing Brett today. But, damn, he had needed to hold her.

The scent of fresh-baked biscuits brought Rebecca out of her fitful sleep. Her eyes stung, and her whole face felt swollen. Jake walked in bearing a plate of biscuits and gravy, laying it on the bed beside her as she sat up.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

Rebecca squinted. “The sun’s barely up. You make it
sound like I’ve been sleeping the day away.” She fingered the plate. “I don’t know why you have to be so good to me.”

Because I love you, he thought, but he no longer dared to say the words out loud. Already he felt a constriction around his heart that he knew would only worsen in the next few days.

“I need to go into town today to pick up some supplies and take care of some business. Do you and Jacob want to come with me?” he asked.

“No, thank you.” She didn’t want to chance running into Brett. It had been hard enough not to leave with him yesterday. She gave Jake a small smile. “Not this time. We’ll go with you the next time.” She wanted to reassure him that there would be a next time, that what she was going through was only temporary, that it would last only until Monday.

Leaning over, he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be late. Don’t wait supper on me.”

After he left, she damned her eyes for the torrent of tears they were sending down her cheeks. She’d dry up to nothing, like the bleached bones on the arid land, if she kept crying this much.

Walking aimlessly, Rebecca pulled Jacob in his wagon around the corrals, through the barn, under the clattering windmill, back around the house and finally settled on their final destination, the weathered oak tree that provided shade for their small home. She set Jacob down on a blanket, which he rapidly scooted off, pulling himself up to his feet. Hugging the age-old tree, he walked around it, gleefully enjoying his independence. Watching her son, she wondered if any child had ever been as happy, any child as loved as he was. She could not fault Jake for the attention he gave the boy. If she were honest with herself, she couldn’t fault him for anything. He’d given her everything he had promised. The fault lay within herself.

She had doubted that Brett would return. That was her mistake. And now Brett would suffer for it. It seemed an eternity since she had walked through the night with Jake
and decided to accept his offer, decided that even if Brett returned it would be too late. But how was she to have known he would return or that it would hurt so much to see him?

Sean ambled over and hunkered down before her, a stance she had often seen Jake take, and she wondered if Brian minded that his sons so emulated her husband.

“Saw Mr. Jake hitch up the wagon this morning. Did he go into town?”

“He had some business to take care of,” Rebecca told the boy.

Sean nodded. “Think he’ll stop by the general store?”

She smiled. “He said something about picking up some supplies.”

“Think he’ll pick up some sweets?”

Her smile deepened. “He usually does, doesn’t he?” she asked.

Sean bobbed his head, then reached into his pocket and brought out two coins. “Mr. Jake’s been paying me one dollar a month to take care of Shorty. I sure do like Mr. Jake.”

“I like him, too,” Rebecca said. And she did. She always had.

Sean eyed her warily. “Don’t you love him?”

“He’s my husband, Sean. What do you think?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed, and Rebecca wished she hadn’t asked the question. Children, with their innocent abandon, were too apt to see the truth. Sean gave a curt nod.

“Yep. You love him. Want me to pull Jacob for a while?”

She plopped Jacob back into the wagon and watched as his smile stretched across his face further and further with each step Sean took. She settled herself back against the tree, wondering how she had managed to fool Sean. Children were not easily fooled. And if she had fooled him, who else had she managed to fool?

No matter how desperately she sought it, sleep would not come to her. Rebecca heard the creaking of the wagon,
wishing she had fallen asleep before Jake got back. She didn’t want to hurt him, she really didn’t, but she didn’t think she could stand his being nice to her.

Jake quietly closed the door behind him, remembering a time when more than a lamp sitting on a table welcomed him home. He hung his hat on a peg and set his boots down beside the door. He walked over to the table and sent the flame in the lamp to sleep with a quick breath of air. He didn’t expect to find sleep for himself so easily. He walked past the quilt, and his eyes fell on his wife huddled on the far side of the bed. Her breathing wasn’t deep enough for her to be asleep, but she didn’t move as he approached, and he wondered how much of the past year she regretted. Cautiously, he slipped under the covers and very slowly slipped his arm around her, wanting her to think he thought she was asleep so he could hold her.

“My head hurts, Jake.”

She felt his body stiffen.

“I only want to hold you, Reb.” Then in a pained whisper, he added, “Please.”

Those damnable tears filled Rebecca’s eyes as she scooted over until her backside was pressed against his stomach.

He pressed his lips against the top of her head, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair. She must have washed it while he was away. It always smelled like roses right after she’d washed it, and it felt as fine as cornsilk.

“I was wondering,” he said quietly, “if you and Jacob would go on a picnic with me tomorrow, out to that little pond.”

“I have so many chores I didn’t get done today. I was planning on doing them tomorrow.”

“The chores’ll wait. Please, Reb. It would mean a lot to me for the three of us to spend some time together tomorrow.”

God, now she had him begging her. He who had given her everything was forced to beg for a simple picnic. She rolled over, putting her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his hardened chest.

“I think we could all use a picnic,” she said.

Drawing his arms more tightly around her, he wished he couldn’t feel where her tears had dampened her cheeks. Tomorrow was Sunday, and the following day, at noon, Brett Meier would ride out of town. And Jake was afraid the man wouldn’t be leaving alone.

The bluebonnets had long since left the hillside, replaced with new flowers in a variety of colors. Picking at the tall blades of grass surrounding them, Rebecca sat on the quilt Jake had spread out on the thick blanket of clover. Her mind was far away from this site, wondering where she would be today, how different her life would be, if she had waited for Brett’s return. He might have come before Jacob was born. Her son would have been legitimatized by his own father instead of Jake. She released a deep sigh. Whatifs never did much good, certainly never perked her up.

“Do you want something to eat?” Jake asked, wishing she’d bestow upon him a smile, a warm smile that said she cared about him. He needed this picnic, to have one last memory of them here on this hillside.

She lifted a shoulder. “No. I’m really not too hungry just yet.”

“Would you like something to drink? I made you some of that lemonade you were partial to when we went to the Market.”

“No, thank you.”

Rubbing his hands on his thighs, he glanced over at Jacob, sound asleep on a tiny blanket nearby. Even the boy wasn’t going to cooperate. Jake took a sip of the lemonade, his mouth puckering at the taste, wondering what else went into it besides water and the juice squeezed from lemons. Sugar maybe, or honey? He tossed the tart drink onto the grass, grateful Reb hadn’t tried it.

“Would you like for me to push you in the swing?” Jake asked.

“No,” Rebecca sighed. A bee buzzed by, circled around and landed on the tip of her shoe where it peeked out from beneath her skirt. She studied it, thinking of the first picnic they had shared here beneath the tree and the bee that had
come along and spoiled the afternoon. Jake had brought her and Jacob back here many times since then. It was always pleasant, always peaceful. Except for today. She snapped her head around. “I am spoiling the day, aren’t I, Jake? Why ever do you put up with me? Yes, I’d like for you to push me in the swing.” She jumped up and he grabbed her hand. “Sit back down, Reb. I got something to say, and I should have said it sooner.”

Rebecca sat down, dreading his words, afraid he was going to ask her if she still loved Brett. Once Brett left, everything would be all right, everything would return to normal. She would even be able to talk about him, but not now, not while he was so close, within easy reach.

“I went to see Doyle Thomas when I was in town yesterday.”

“Doyle Thomas? What in the world do we need with a lawyer?”

Jake’s eyes held hers.
Please Lord, don’t let her want this, let her tell me I was wrong.
“I asked him to draw up divorce papers.”

“Divorce papers? Why did you do that?”

He took a deep breath. “Because when I asked you to marry me, I told you I’d never expect more from you than you were willing to give … that includes staying with me when the man you love has come for you.”

Rebecca’s hands flew to her mouth, the life back in her eyes. “Do you mean it, Jake?”

“Yes, ma’am. I do.”

Her slender fingers couldn’t hide the brightness of the smile spreading across her face. Jake’s heart soared to know he could bring her such happiness before it plummeted to its death. The muscles in his throat constricted, and he swallowed repeatedly, trying to get them to loosen up.

“He’ll have the papers ready for us in the morning. I figured we could go into town first thing and sign them. It’ll take about two months for the divorce to be finalized, but you could go ahead and go to Montana with Brett. Mr. Thomas will send you the divorce papers when they’re final.”

She grabbed his hand and placed a kiss of gratitude on the roughened skin, her smile lessening as she realized she was going to be leaving this good man. “I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly, her earlier exuberance dissipating. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

Jake didn’t know what to say either, but he knew the picnic was over. “I reckon we ought to get back. I imagine you got some packing to do.”

She dropped his hand and began gathering her things, her son included. Then she spun around and watched Jake as he brought the corners of the quilt together, clumsily folding up the picnic, looking so alone, so lonely. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she turned away, her eyes blinking back the tears until she could see clearly. What she saw before her brought the tears back. She walked over and touched the rope of the swing.

Jake waited patiently for Rebecca to say good-bye to the hillside, hoping she’d understand if their own good-bye was brief.

They rode back in silence, Jake sullen and quiet, Rebecca thoughtful as she anticipated packing for her trip to Montana. Montana. Montana with Brett. It was what she wanted, to be with Brett, to be his wife. It’s what she would have had a year ago if he hadn’t left, if circumstances hadn’t forced her to settle for something else.

Jake stopped the wagon outside the house, helping Rebecca down from the wagon. For the briefest moment while he held her, he wanted desperately to pull her to him, to hold her, to tell her he loved her. Instead he simply released her and moved up to lead the horses into the barn. She headed for the house, her step light, and then she turned abruptly, her face uncertain.

“What should I take with me?”

He turned to face her, memorizing the image of her standing in the doorway to what was no longer their house, but was now only his. “Anything you want to. Everything was for you.”