Authors: Sara Petersen
Chapter Thirty-One
Mac accelerated up the road to the white ranch house, anxious and excited to get home. He’d left Missoula, Montana early this morning and was glad to have the long drive behind him. He’d timed it just right, and with any luck, the family would just be sitting down to breakfast. He parked the old black truck, still missing its windshield, and jogged up the back steps of the house. The smell of maple syrup and hot bacon assailed his senses, and he grinned, secretly patting himself on the back for his impeccable timing.
“Mornin’,” he called in good spirits, striding to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.
Mattie and Kirby were seated at the table, each of them cradling a hot cup of coffee in their hands. Neither of them returned his greeting, but Mattie did offer him a kind smile, albeit a bit reserved.
Drying his hands on the terry dishtowel, he strode toward the table. “Where’s everybody at this morning? Is Sam not up yet?” he asked cheerfully. Mac couldn’t contain the joy he was feeling this morning. Kirby scowled up at him and then flipped the newspaper up in front of his face.
“Sam’s still asleep, and Leif’s in on the sofa. We didn’t expect you back so early. You must have driven half the night?” Mattie suggested.
Mac smiled charmingly at her. “I did.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem like you’ve been hurt by the lack of sleep at all,” Mattie teased, noting Mac’s unusual good mood.
Mac walked over to the icebox to get the milk, grinning at Mattie over his shoulder as if he knew something she didn’t. He grabbed the cold pitcher and, pouring himself a tall glass of milk, called over his shoulder, “Is Jo still out doing chores?”
No one answered him.
Placing the milk back in the chest, he turned to them, waiting for an answer. The paper remained in place in front of Kirby’s face. Mac crossed to the window above the kitchen sink, looking for Jo in the yard. He’d planned on waiting to speak with her, but if Sam was still sleeping and she was doing chores, now was as good as time as any.
“Jo’s gone, Mac,” Mattie sighed from the kitchen table.
Swinging around, Mac’s brows scrunched together. “Gone where? Did she go out for a ride?”
Mattie’s face sagged as she shook her head, and a creeping fear stole over Mac. His eyes narrowing suspiciously and his pleasant demeanor disappearing, he repeated anxiously, “Gone where?”
“GONE HOME!” Kirby bellowed, slapping his paper forcefully onto the table.
“Gone!” The air left Mac’s lungs. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, his eyes flashing angrily. Striding to the kitchen door, he flung it open, looking for any sign of Jo in the yard.
“Are you simple?” Kirby shouted. “She’s
not
here
. I took her to town yesterday morning.”
Mac slammed the door shut. “You
what
?” he hissed icily, stalking across the floor to the kitchen table. Interceding, Mattie lifted her hand from Kirby’s and gently laid it on Mac’s arm, attempting to calm him down. She tried pulling him into a chair, but Mac wouldn’t budge from his threatening position above Kirby. “You told me her train didn’t leave until the end of the week,” he accused.
“The morning
you
left, she decided to leave too!” Kirby yelled back at him, throwing his chair back violently as he bolted out of it. Thrusting a crooked finger in Mac’s face, he snarled, “If you wanted her here, you should’ve damn well told her so.” Reaching into his pocket, Kirby yanked out an envelope and tossed it disgustedly onto the kitchen table then stormed from the room, his heavy boots thumping down the hall.
Mac stared at the yellow envelope, his name scrawled across the front of it in Jo’s perfect schoolmarm penmanship. With his pulse pounding and his shoulders still heaving, he grabbed it off the table. Turning his back to Mattie, he slipped his finger in the seam and tore it open. Jo’s lovely orange scent floated off the page as he unfolded the letter.
Mac,
You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. In the sum of my life, those words are what I regret most dearly. I couldn’t leave without that being said. Please, if you ever think back on that night, forget those hateful words and remember, only, that I love you.
Jo
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ironically, the hotel clerk had boarded Jo in the same hotel room that she had occupied the first night she had come to town. It was in this very room that Jo had written her response to Leif’s advertisement for a ranch hand. Jo turned to Charlie, who was sitting in the chair at the window, the chair she had fallen asleep in her first night here. “I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m glad you played hookey from school today so that you could see me off. I hope you don’t get into trouble.”
Charlie grinned at Jo. “It’s no big deal. I know…I know…” he said, raising his hands defensively before Jo could scold him. “I need to take my classes seriously. You already lectured me enough over breakfast. I promise I won’t skip out anymore. Besides if I do, I’ll catch it from my father.”
Jo glanced at the small silver clock on the end table. “Aren’t you supposed to be at his office soon?”
Charlie groaned miserably. “Yes. I can’t wait until next year when I can move out to the ranch and do what I want to do.”
Jo smiled patiently at him, offering encouragement. “The year will go by before you know it.”
Charlie stood up and walked to the door with Jo. “I wish you weren’t leaving.”
A wistful longing shadowed Jo’s face. “Me too...” she mumbled.
“I still don’t understand why you’re going? Everyone wants you to stay,” Charlie pestered. He’d asked her the same question twice already this morning.
“It’s…complicated,” Jo explained, sidestepping the question.
Bluntly, Charlie corrected her, “You mean…it’s Mac.” Growing frustrated with him, Jo rolled her eyes and blew the hair out of her face. “I’m not blind, Jo. I know he’s the real reason you are leaving.”
Standing at the door, Jo faced him. “Listen, Charlie, you know how you love to ranch. It’s the thing you want most in your life, and you won’t feel satisfied until you’re riding herd on your land.”
Charlie nodded. “Y
eah.”
“Well, that’s how I feel. I want a family. A home of mine own. I’m not leaving because of Mac. I’m on my way home, wherever that may be.”
“I know you don’t want to leave,” Charlie said, stubbornly refusing to give in if there was a possibility that he could convince Jo to stay.
“Charlie,” she laughed, throwing her hands up. “If you keep badgering me, I won’t be going anywhere. I’ll miss my train.”
“All right, all right, I’m going…” Charlie surrendered, stepping to the door. In the span of one summer, he had grown several inches, and Jo had to rise up on her tiptoes to hug him.
“I’ll be expecting your letters,” she reminded him with a warm squeeze. This goodbye felt different than the rest of them did. In the recesses of her mind, she felt certain that it wasn’t for forever and she would see Charlie again. It made the farewell easier.
Before turning to go, Charlie analyzed Jo, deep concern lining his face. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked. Charlie had seen the evidence of last night’s troubled sleep on Jo’s face this morning when he’d picked her up for breakfast. She had never spoken to him about her relationship with Mac, but Charlie, observant by nature, had spent the summer reading between the lines. He knew that under her bright and positive attitude, she was really unhappy.
Warmly hugging Charlie, Jo reassured him, “I’ll be fine. Really.” Unconvinced by her declaration, Charlie hesitated, lingering in the doorway.
Jo grabbed a hold of both of his shoulders, practically shoving him out into the hallway. “Charlie, you are late, and I have to finish packing my things and check out,” she said kindly but firmly.
“I know,” Charlie obliged regrettably. Then giving Jo one last hug, he promised her that he would write soon and retreated down the hall, his muscled, athletic build a testament to months of physical labor.
Jo shut the hotel room door and sagged against the rich mahogany wood frame. Sometimes the worst part about goodbyes was the anticipation of them. Jo was thankful that the hard part was over, and all that was required of her now was to put one foot in front of the other, complete the humdrum details, and move in mechanical procession until she boarded the train.
Crossing to the bed where her traveling case was laid out, Jo began carefully putting away her toiletries. She had purchased a new dress for her first day on the train. It was light and airy unlike the garment she had worn on the first day of her trip west. Hearing a light knock on her door, Jo flung the slip she’d been packing on to the bed.
Exasperated, she strode across the room to the door and grabbed the brass handle. “Charlie,” she said, flinging it open, “I’m fine…” The words ended in a sharp inhale as Jo’s eyes moved up and up until they stared into a pair of crystal blue eyes.
The sight of Jo was pure heaven to Mac. After worrying all the way to town that her train would leave early and he would somehow miss her, he was flooded with relief. Standing in the doorway, he quickly appraised Jo. Her eyes were a deep purple shade, highlighted by the dark lines under them, and her luminous hair had fallen out of its pins and tumbled around her shoulders in a breathtaking, lovely mess.
“Mac…” Jo exhaled his name, astonished that he was standing before her. His face was the last one she’d expected to see upon opening the door. With her hand still on the doorknob, she flustered awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were Charlie.”
Mac shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, wondering if Jo was going to invite him in. “I passed him on my way up,” he explained.
Jo nodded mutely, still shocked that Mac was at her door. His face was shadowed with a couple of day’s growth of beard, and his hair was tousled and messy, resulting in an appealing rugged appearance. He looked nervous and agitated, and at the back of his eyes, Jo detected a poorly concealed displeasure.
Peering past Jo into the room, he dipped his head. “May I come in?”
Jo glanced over her shoulder, her eyes darting around the room, seemingly unsure. Letting go of the doorknob and barely meeting his gaze, she stepped back, allowing room for Mac to enter.
He barged past her, his looming and unexplained presence causing her heart to beat loudly in her chest. Her long-lost pitiable clinging shard of hope returned out of nowhere and once again attached itself to her heart. Jo immediately scolded it. She stole a glance at Mac as he paced intimidatingly across the room from her with his back turned. Fluidly, he yanked the jacket he was wearing off of his shoulders and slapped it across the bed, then loosened the top button of his shirt as if he was uncomfortably hot. A warm liquid pulsed through Jo as he heatedly rolled his shirt sleeves up, revealing his strong tan forearms. Everything about Mac, from his handsome, rugged face to the way he moved attracted Jo. Not trusting herself, she widened the gap between them, moving to stand at the very opposite end of the small confined room. Strangely, earlier the room had seemed quite large to her, but now with Mac’s large presence in it, she felt stifled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mac watched Jo move toward the wall,
away from him
. He’d raced to town from the ranch, desperate to catch her before she left, and now that his frenzy had subsided, anger quickly followed on its heels. Initially, he was overwhelmed with relief at seeing her again, but now standing next to the bed, riddled with all her belongings and her open travel bag, the idea that she had left him without saying a word offended him. Halting his pacing, Mac scrutinized the mess, casually running his finger along the edge of the bag. Cocking his head toward Jo, he stared at her, disbelief and bitter censure raging in his eyes. “You left without saying a word to me?” The accusation hissed lowly from his mouth.
Jo tilted her head to the side in a soft womanly manner that devastated Mac. “I left a note for you with Kirby.”
Mac scoffed and slammed the lid of her suitcase down hard with his hand. It thumped loudly in the room. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out her note and held it up to her. “This,” he accused, “this is your goodbye?” The words surged out resentfully and broke on an anguished chord.
Mac looked hurt, like she’d gravely wounded him, and Jo had to fight the impulse to go to him.
Why
, she cried inwardly.
Why does he do this to me?
Leaving would be so much easier if he didn’t act like this, didn’t make me believe he cared
. Jo watched the blood pulse angrily along his throat as his eyes bored into her, waiting for her response.
Jo’s heavenly blue pools glistened as she spread her hands out before her. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. This way seemed easier.”
Mac tilted his head back and stared in frustration at the ceiling, his jaw ticking fiercely. He wanted to reject her explanation, to yell at her for scaring him like that, but her blue eyes swimming with repressed tears and the emotional break in her voice devastated him. He dropped his eyes back to her and chewed on the inside of his cheek.
Jo felt trapped, like a child placed in front of a class at the chalkboard, expected to supply a correct answer when she didn’t know what it was. “You knew I was leaving. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you,” she tried.
“How can you say that?” Mac roared. “I asked you two days ago in my office what you went to town for, and you lied to me?”
Jo’s head shot up, and fire burned in her eyes. “I didn’t lie to you,” she hotly denied.
“Well, you
certainly
didn’t tell me! And then you snuck away when you knew I was gone.”
“You left!” Jo shouted at him. “Kirby told you when my train was leaving…and
you
left.”
They stared heatedly at each other, distrust and accusations sparking around them. All the air left Mac’s lungs as he shook his head wearily and dropped his eyes to the floor.
Jo shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “There was nothing left to say, Mac. Our goodbyes were spoken in the barn nights ago,” she breathed, her voice breaking. Swiftly, she turned around, stifling the tears that were starting to back up in her throat. Behind her, Mac said nothing, but she could feel his penetrating eyes on her back. Needing something to occupy her hands, Jo crossed to the bed and resumed her packing. Still, Mac just watched her, his eyes flicking to every item she gathered up.
Slowly, he walked across the room to stand beside her at the bed. He picked up the flimsy white slip from the bed where she had tossed it and gathered the silky material into a ball in his hand. Silently, he held it out to her, calling her eyes to his. Involuntarily, she raised her head and met them. The anger dissolved from his countenance, and he gazed down at her tenderly.
Flustered and confused by his altered appearance, Jo snatched the slip from his hand and discreetly stuffed it into her suitcase. “My train leaves in less than an hour,” she announced, buckling the latch of her luggage with a decisive click.
“You won’t be on it,” Mac countered authoritatively. Yanking the suitcase out of her grip, he stalked across the room and set it down firmly in the chair.
After the car ride to town with Kirby yesterday, Jo thought she’d cried herself all out, but now she was teetering on the precipice of another messy breakdown. She didn’t want to argue or quarrel with Mac. She didn’t want to accuse, sob, and plead. She didn’t want the last minutes she’d ever spend with him to be consumed in this senseless way.
“Is
this why you came here, Mac?” she beseeched, her fragile composure crumbling. “To quarrel?” Jo covered her eyes with her hand and rubbed the center of her forehead wearily. Sliding her hand down her face, she covered her mouth and faced Mac miserably. “Why didn’t you just let me go?” she pleaded.
Mac rested his wide hands on his hips in his distinctive casual manner. Staring directly at her, his eyes turned soft and warm
. “I need a ranch hand.”
His answer stunned Jo. Did he really expect her to come back to the ranch and work for him, after all that had passed between them? A dismal smile blanketed her face and softly scoffing, she recited the exact words he’d spoken at their first meeting. “The boss would never hire a woman.”
Mac’s intense eyes held Jo’s. “He might…if he loved her.”
Jo’s brows drew together in question as his meaning slowly dawned on her. “What?” she murmured quietly, full of distrust.
Mac stared at the sweet woman before him. Her chin quivered endearingly as she gawked at him with large wary eyes. “I love you, Jo,” he stated, his words resonating loud and clear in the quiet room.
The tears she’d been battling cascaded over her eyelashes and flowed freely down her freckled cheeks. Overwhelmed and mistrustful, she dropped her head into her hands, unwilling to look at him.
Mac charged across the room and cupped Jo’s soft pink cheeks in his hands, lifting her eyes to his. “I love you, Jo,” he said again, his earnest expression piercing her. “Don’t leave.” More hot tears spilled into his hands. He leaned over and kissed them away, absorbing the salty sweetness with his lips. Mac held her tightly in his arms for several minutes, stroking the back of her hair tenderly with his rough palm and expressing his feelings to her. He told her how badly he’d wanted her from the beginning, how much he needed her, how sorry he was for hurting her. Each confession thrilled Jo with its love and sincerity. Pressing his firm, warm lips to her brow, her cheeks, and then her lips, Mac soothed and stilled her tears.