High Country Bride (16 page)

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Joanna glanced over her shoulder to check on her children, safe and quiet on the seat. “The apples were the hardest hit. We picked up what fell, didn’t we?”

He kept his attention on the road, but knew the little ones were nodding. The girl’s sweet, high voice filled the air and the boy’s somber one added a comment or two. Aiden’s chest tightened.

He eased Clyde as far to the right as he could go. A driver and wagon were headed their way. It was Stevens. Aiden nodded a greeting to his neighbor as they passed. Stevens waved back, tipping his hat at Joanna, a neighborly show of respect.

Aiden was glad for that. “I don’t suppose you met him when you were living with your pa?”

“No. None of the neighbors took a liking to my father. He was a hard man.”

“I can’t argue with that. Stevens is one of the men I trade work with when threshing time comes. There’ll be about six of us plus the hired help to feed. I suspect you know how it works.”

“I do.” She smoothed the folds of her skirts, as if she was working herself up to say something. “You don’t have to worry, Aiden. I was married to a wheat farmer before. I know what’s expected. I know the hard work you need done.”

“I wasn’t saying I needed you in the fields.” One day he was going to have to learn how to say what he meant. “I was talking about the meals. Cooking for that many men.”

“Me, too.” She laughed, a gentle, welcoming sound, one that tugged at the lost places within him. That lured him like the sunlight, like the prairie, into noticing.

She drew him where he could not help following. He felt alive, as if he was breathing in air for the first time.

“For a minute there you had me worrying you planned to be out in the fields helping me.” It felt right to laugh along with her. “The joke was on me, I guess.”

“I have talked so much about working in the fields. What else were you to think?”

“I’m glad you don’t have to work that hard, Joanna. I don’t want you to. Do you understand?”

The laughter faded from her face, but not the smile. It remained, wide enough to reach her eyes and real enough to touch what remained of his soul. That felt right, too.

“You have done so much for me and my children, Aiden.” Serious now, she laid her hand on his sleeve.

He swallowed at the connection, at the tug of emotion within him he did not want to feel. “I’ve only done the right thing is all.”

“I wish I could do as much for you.” Her fingers lingered on his sleeve, and in the heartbeat before she pulled away, there it was again. That fondness he’d spotted before.

For him this time. Clearly for him.

Joanna closed the worn book, quietly laid it on the bedside table and turned down the wick. The lamplight faded into darkness, leaving only the faint light from the sickle moon spilling in through the cracks between the curtains. It was enough to see the shadows of her little ones tucked into their beds. Daisy lay on her side, clutching her doll, looking like perfection, so still and sweet. James, on the other hand, stirred, fighting sleep.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered, and kissed his forehead, hoping that would settle him.

Instead his eyes popped wide-open. “Ma, I can’t hardly sleep.”

“Yes, but you must. Tomorrow is another good day.”

“This sure is a great room.” Even in the dark shadows, it was simple to see the contentment on his face and hear the gladness in his words. “I like this house the best. Mostly because we really get to stay here.”

“That’s right.” No more worries for her children. No more want. She thought of the man who had avoided her since he’d helped her from the wagon at his brother’s place. The strings of her heart knotted tight. “You get some sleep, now.”

“I like my new pa.” There was something else there exposed in his words and hidden by the dark. “He let me lead Clyde. Did you see?”

“I saw.” She remembered the picture the three of them had made, the small boy, the big man and the giant horse together. “You did a real good job with him.”

“I know. I like Clyde. He’s a good old fella.” James imitated Aiden’s intonation.

So much need. How did she explain it to a boy who wanted a father? “It was nice of Aiden to take the time with you, but you know he’s terrible busy this time of year.”

“I know. That’s why he didn’t come home with us. Or to supper. He had to help Uncle Thad with his wheat. And tomorrow Uncle Thad is gonna come here and help with ours.”

“That’s right.” She had to find the right words, the right way to handle this. She had to protect James from disappointment. She had to protect Aiden from James caring too much. Tonight, when she knelt down to pray, she would ask for the Lord’s help. Just as he had led them here to Aiden, surely he was continuing to lead them.

She brushed James’s bangs from his eyes. “We must be careful not to burden Aiden. He did a good deed taking us in. You sleep tight, sweetheart.”

“Do you think he’s home yet?”

“Not yet.” She stood, full of love for her children and for the man who could never love her in return. “For the last time, go to sleep.”

James gave a little giggle. “Okay, Ma. I’ll try.”

She closed the door quietly and padded downstairs. She had left the windows open to the night breezes, and the house was pleasant and smelled of ripening wheat and wildflowers. She went from window to window, closing up before she lit the lamps. There was no tidying left to do in the parlor, and the kitchen was spick-and-span, so she grabbed her sewing basket and sat down at the table to work.

A moth beat at the screen door as she threaded her needle. She planned to work on the fabric she had picked up for James before the wedding. She had not made as much progress on his trousers as she wanted. Ida had pointed out today that school started in town in a few weeks’ time.

As she knotted the end of the thread and double-checked the pins on the side seams, she thought of her little boy. He looked up to Aiden. It was natural for him to want a father. Of course that’s what he thought Aiden ought to be. He was too young to understand. It was his heart that was wanting what he had never had. Certainly not from Tom, when he’d been alive, and never even from her father in the year or more they had lived with him.

How could James understand, when she didn’t understand herself? She didn’t know why the heart yearned to love and be loved. It was simply the way God had made hearts. She could not say it felt wrong that a skyful of love swept through her every time she thought of Aiden, powerful enough to fill her world from horizon to horizon, and every place in between.

There was no hiding from it. No changing it. No way to go back in time and stop every step she’d taken that had brought her here. She slid the needle into the fabric, basting long, even stitches, working without thought. Her mind was on Aiden. On hearing the plod of a horse in the yard. Seeing his familiar profile as he rode one of Thad’s horses through the shadowy darkness. She longed for the moment when he’d walk through the door. She couldn’t wait to hear the rich timbre of his voice and simply to have the privilege of making his life easier.

She finished the seam quickly and set down her work. There was the supper she’d saved aside for him, in case he was hungry when he came home. It was a pleasure to set out the big slice of the pie she’d baked for him—apple pie.

There he was, striding through the darkness, outlined by the faint moon glow, more light than shadow. He pulled back the screen door and entered—her husband. He was the perfect image of everything good in a man, and she could not stop her heart from falling ever more in love with him.

When he saw her, he froze. He did not smile, but changed to granite before her very eyes. He let the door close with a hollow slap, and turned away from her. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“I’m sorry, but I ate at Noelle’s,” he said, then went straight to his room.

S
he sat at the kitchen table, graced by lamplight. Washed and changed out of his work clothes, Aiden debated. Every instinct he had told him to keep his distance. And yet she was his wife now. She deserved more than that from him. Look at her, even at eight o’clock at night, working away with her head bent over her sewing, so intent that she didn’t notice him standing in the doorway like a statue.

“Is that apple pie I smell?”

That got her attention. Her needle stilled in midstitch and her head whipped up. Instead of the censure he deserved, there was only a gentle look, more a question than anything. Those places within him began aching again—from the past, for the future…he didn’t know.

“It sure is.” She put her work aside and was already rising. Anxiety pinched the smooth skin around her eyes. “If you like it warm, it will take a few moments to heat. I just need to light the stove.”

“Don’t go to any trouble. I’ll cut it, Joanna.”

“I don’t mind.” She was already reaching up into the cupboards for a plate and a cup, quick to please. “I have tea cooled, or I can fetch cold water from the well.”

He hung his head. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted a sensible, working type of marriage. Not one that made every piece of him hurt whenever he looked at her. He couldn’t miss the pain he’d put on her face. He felt as if a cinch were drawing tight around his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Like a man suffocating, panic set in. The need to protect himself from an endless pain.

His hand trembled as he took a knife from the drawer. He steeled himself, heart and soul, before he moved closer to her. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t need anyone. That he didn’t need her to slide a spatula beneath the wedge of pie he’d cut, and put it on a plate for him. That he didn’t need her fresh baked dessert or her kindness or the veiled look on her face that told him she was hiding her heart.

He didn’t need love. He didn’t want love. It had only brought him devastation. He was still holding the shards of that life, unable to let go, unable to move on. Being near Joanna with the soft fragrance of baking clinging to her clothes, and her flower-scented soap, was tearing him apart. He wished he could forget the radiance he’d witnessed in her and what he’d seen of her heart. He wished he had something left inside him still able to care. He wished the twisting coil of turmoil within him would stop, simply stop, and leave him be.

He drew a ragged breath, willing himself to walk calmly to the table and set down the plate. It took all of his might not to notice as Joanna swept close with a cup of tea. He felt as if he were breaking apart as he sat down at the table.

“You worked a long time at your brother’s.” She lingered a moment too long.

He could feel the emptiness within him like a sore tooth. He grabbed up the fork, trying to pretend everything was as it should be. But he was only fooling himself. “Thad’s fields weren’t as hard hit as ours. That was a blessing, at least. Still, it took the better part of seven hours to clean them up.”

“It’s a hardship for him.” She swept away, taking all the air in the room with her.

It was the only explanation he could come up with for why he felt as if he was gasping for breath. “It’s his first crop. I helped him break sod this past spring. The first yield is never good. He wasn’t expecting a solid crop until next year.”

“But you were counting on the crop here, weren’t you?” Her voice was resonant with understanding, her concern rich with layers. “If things get hard for you…”

He couldn’t look at her, but he heard her silence and the weight of questions she did not ask. They stood between them as solidly as the table. He could feel them. He winced. “I hope that’s not what you think of me. That I’m a fair-weather man. That if times get rough, I’ll break my vows to you.”

“No, that’s not what I think. Not at all.” Her words rang low and as sweet as the apple pie in front of him. Warmth crept into her voice, the kind that came with a deep caring. “I only meant that you weren’t banking on having two extra horses to feed through the winter, and that’s a cost to you. Now me and the children to feed and shelter, and that’s a greater cost. If the crop isn’t enough…Well, I’m already doing piecework for Cora Sims. I’m sure I could do more.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. She had no notion of what she was doing to him with her generous compassion and willing heart. “Joanna, you do more than enough every day. We’ll get by. I’ve got savings put aside. I had a good crop last year. You’re not to worry.”

“But with part of the wheat crop gone, I imagine we’ll need to watch every penny.”

“True.”

“And my wages will help.” She watched his reaction through her lashes. His jaw was granite, his gaze stony. “You don’t think a woman ought to be concerned with making ends meet, is that it?”

“No, I was just thinking I’m not taking your wages.” He cut into his pie with his fork, his voice flat. “I’m not a man who takes his wife’s money. Now, before you start arguing—”

“How did you know I was going to argue?”

“You’re a woman. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, a woman always has an opinion.” His mouth crooked in the corners.

“Well, you are right about that, mister.” She picked up her sewing and began stitching away. Poking the needle through the fabric gave her some satisfaction at least, as she could not accomplish as much with him as easily. “It’s my opinion that I won’t be a burden to you. I owe you, Aiden. More than you know.”

“How did you come to that opinion?” His forehead creased as if he was puzzled. “You are a good wife, Joanna. You deserve all I can provide for you—more than I can do for you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” She reached the end of the seam and knotted it swiftly. Her eyes were hot and she had to squint to see what she was doing. She tried hard not to think of those dark days of chaos and disappointment of her first marriage. Of trying so hard. “You appreciate everything I do. You compliment every meal I make. You see me, Aiden.”

“It would be hard not to. All I have to do is open my eyes.”

“You know what I mean.” He could try to tempt her away from her feelings with that dry humor of his, but it wasn’t going to work. Love bubbled like a wellspring in her soul, always running, always renewed.

She lowered her gaze, hoping that would hide any rogue feelings showing in her eyes. She bowed her head over her work, hoping the shadows would mask her. “You don’t make me feel less than. I can’t tell you what it means to me. Your kindness…”

She stopped there, willing her tongue to stop forming any more words that could give her away. She was in love with him. It would not be right to let him see that she had already broken a promise between them. She blinked hard and knotted the thread again and a third time, before weaving the end thread through the fabric.

“My kindness is the least of what you deserve, Joanna.” He looked lost again. “You had heartbreak in your first marriage as surely as I did in mine. In little bits at a time. I can see how it was. One disappointment after another until there was nothing left but pieces of your dreams.”

“Yes.” She was not surprised that he could see this in her so clearly. Aiden always had that knack. She prayed he could not see her as clearly now. She wrapped her love for him up and hoped it was hidden deeply enough that he would never see. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“Yep.” He paused to stare out past the pool of light to the window, where night and shadows beckoned. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You’ve had heartache and hardship in your life, and yet you’ve never closed your heart. How have you done it?”

“I did not have your losses, Aiden.”

“No, but love lost is the same in the end.” His chest hurt something fierce. He set down his fork, feeling trapped, needing to feel the breeze on his face and the expanse of the sky blowing on by. She reached across the table and laid her hand on his. The shards that had once been his soul stirred.

“I should not have been here, waiting for you tonight.” It wasn’t understanding or sympathy in her words, but love. Quiet as dawn coming and as sure as first light, that’s how she sounded.

Did she know she was so transparent? She deserved better than a man like him, barren of heart and grasping for any embers that might remain. He was too tangled up to pray. Too unsettled to feel his way to that calm place of God. Aiden passed his hand over his face, torn up inside, feeling like a rope unraveling shank by braided shank.

Footsteps crossed the porch behind him. Finn, was his first guess, but the heavy gait was wrong. Just wishful thinking, Aiden supposed, wanting his youngest brother to come back to his senses. Wanting to save him, maybe because he could not save himself.

A soft knock sounded on the door frame. He was already on his feet, heading toward the door. He didn’t recognize the man’s shadow on the back step until he came closer and saw the faint glint of a silver star. The sheriff. This had happened before.

“Clint.” He yanked open the screen door. “Don’t tell me this is about Finn. I’m not in the mood.”

“You know that’s why I’m here.” The lawman swept off his hat. “Now, I can leave or I can tell you the truth. Which way do you want it?”

“What did he do this time?” Aiden tensed, as if he were bracing himself. “Tell me he’s sleeping it off in a cell.”

“I would, but that’s not the whole truth. He’s in big trouble this time, Aiden.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“He was taking part in a robbery.”

“I knew he was going to get into trouble again. How bad is it?”

“Bad. I’m holding him in jail until the judge comes to town. He was armed, Aiden. I regret having to tell you that someone got hurt.”

“I was afraid something like this might happen.” Aiden’s wide shoulders slumped.

“You can see him tomorrow if you want. Thought I’d swing by Thad’s place and let him and your mother know.”

“That’s good of you, Clint.” Aiden wedged one shoulder against the door frame, as if bracing himself. “I appreciate you coming out all this way.”

“That’s all right. I’m sorry to have to bring you news like this.” The sheriff took a step back into the darkness. “I know you’ve been trying to keep him on a better path.”

“Nothing I’ve done has worked.”

“Sometimes that’s the way it is, and it’s a shame, too. I’ll be seeing you, Aiden.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” He didn’t move from the doorway. He stood stock-still, maybe too stunned by the news. Maybe too discouraged.

“I didn’t mean to overhear.” Joana was across the room without realizing it, drawn as if a rope were pulling her. “I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.” He sounded hollow, as if all the life had been sucked right out of him. “I was afraid he would get into worse trouble than before. He’s not a bad boy, but he loses all sense when he’s in the bottom of a bottle.”

“This isn’t your fault, Aiden.”

“I made him leave. Without money. Without a place to live. I tried to do the right thing by him. To make him think about what he was doing.”

“That was his choice.” Her hand settled on his shoulder. She could feel the agony vibrating through him. “Likely he wouldn’t have stopped no matter what you did.”

“I should have done more. What, I don’t know. Now I’ve lost him, too.”

“I know you, Aiden. You did everything you could for him. You gave him a new start. I know, because you did the same thing for me. You gave him a chance to improve his life. Believe me, that’s quite a gift to hand someone.”

“He’s going back to jail for a long time.”

“That was his choice, too.”

“I feel as if I failed him.” Aiden sounded tortured. He moved away from her touch, slowly, as if breaking away hurt him, too, and strode into the darkness. There was no moonlight to illuminate him, just faint stardust. It gilded him in the velvet blackness of the night like a dream. His shoulders were wide, feet braced apart and head bowed as if in prayer.

She closed the screen door quietly. Should she follow him? Did he need comfort? Or would he want to be alone? She longed to go to him. She had to be careful not to give herself away, she thought as she padded down the steps. It wasn’t easy to pull back her affection and lock it in her heart. She gave thanks for the night that hid her face as completely as it hid his.

“Aiden?” She ached to soothe him with the right words. To reach out and let her hand settle on his shoulder again, so he could feel that he wasn’t alone. “You didn’t fail him.”

“It sure feels that way.”

“I’m guessing that you haven’t failed anyone in your whole life. You are so strong. In faith. Of heart. Of character.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing back the love inside her. She could not let it show.

When she opened them again, he was facing her. He had moved as silently as the night, and he seemed a part of it. Lost and bruised, with only the faintest light to guide him.

“You’re wrong, Joanna. I am not that man. You see someone else. Someone you wish to see. Not me.”

“I see how much you are hurting. From this news of Finn. From what you’ve lost. From seeing me sitting in your kitchen, and that’s my fault. I let you talk me into moving in when I should have stayed in the shanty.”