St. John, Cheryl

by Prairie Wife

  She met his eyes and nodded.

  Jesse glanced at Mrs. Barnes's back, then motioned for Amy to follow him into the other room. Hunkering before the hearth, he used the poker to stir the fire and added another log.

  Slowly, as though thinking over his next words, he stood to face her. "There are chores, of course, but... it's probably best if I spend more time here of an evenin'."

  She mulled over his statement. He wanted to spend more time with Cay? Or with her?

  "I won't be stayin' at the boardinghouse anymore. I'll be sleepin' in our bed."

  She wanted him to know she was in agreement with anything he planned. "I never sent you away."

  "No, but I made a bad decision. I'm fixin' it now. I need to be here." He pointed to the floor where he stood.

  "Okay, Jesse." There was something she wasn't picking up on. Something in his voice and the way he stressed the importance of being in the house. Eden was gone. That temptation was removed.

  The point he stressed was just beyond her grasp. If he wanted to talk about things better left alone, she didn't know how she'd deal with it. But she would find a way. She would.

  He moved forward and pulled her to him then, held her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. His entire body felt tense, as though he was prepared for a bullet to come at him. Was she the bullet?

  It had been a long, long time since Amy had felt safe. Since there'd been any peace or contentment in her soul. She wanted those things, she did. If Jesse could just move on like she had, maybe they could find a new beginning.

  Like a barely detectable hairline crack on an egg shell, an infinitesimal fissure marred the protective armor of her heart, and Amy felt exposed and vulnerable. If any feeling could penetrate her defensive shield, it was love for this man.

  He had no reason to or intention of hurting her. She was safe with him. She knew that as well as she knew she stood here right this minute. What terrified her was letting that crack open enough to make her susceptible to other things—feelings she couldn't allow. Her heart took control at that moment, and she wrapped her arms around Jesse's waist and clung to him, pressing her cheek against the front of his soft chambray shirt and squeezing her eyes closed.

  "I'm not proud of what I've become." His voice was low, the tone full of regret.

  "Because of Eden?"

  "She's just a fly on the shit pile I made out of things." Amy withdrew and leaned back to see his face. "I know you didn't have any feelings for her."

  "Hell, no."

  "It still... well, it was a shock seeing the two of you. My head jumped to conclusions."

  "And you know I love you, Amy. I always have."

  A knot formed in her throat. She nodded. "I do know."

  From the kitchen Mrs. Barnes called, "I'm leaving. See you in the morning!"

  "Good night!" Jesse and Amy called together.

  He took a step back. "I'll go round up Cay."

  She nodded, removed her apron and stole a few minutes to go upstairs to wash her face and straighten her hair. When she returned, uncle and nephew sat on the rug before the fireplace.

  "We made you tea." Jesse pointed to the cup and saucer sitting by her chair.

  "How thoughtful! Thank you." She looked at Cay. "Are you ready?"

  He shrugged.

  "Did you like school in Indiana?"

  "Not much."

  "Do you like working with your uncle Jesse?"

  His blue gaze skittered to Jesse and then down at the floor. "It's fine."

  "He's a natural with the horses," Jesse told her. "You can see their attention when he talks to 'em and grooms 'em. He has a real way about him."

  Cay might like the horses, but he still hadn't warmed to Amy. She made up her mind that she was going to do her best to make him feel a welcome part of their family. "This is going to be good for me and Jesse, too," she told him. "Brushing up on our reading and numbers can't hurt. Maybe we can pick a book and take turns reading out loud each night. Would you like that?"

  Again Cay glanced at Jesse.

  Jesse raised a brow, showing the boy he was waiting for his answer.

  "Whatever you want," Cay answered.

  Amy and Jesse exchanged a glance. Cay wasn't giving them any hint of encouragement, but she guessed she shouldn't expect any. Ever since he'd been here, she'd kept busy with her chores and the guests, preoccupied as always. Why would he think she'd suddenly take an interest in him?

  She vowed then to change things. Jesse's nephew had been through enough and shouldn't have to suffer because of their problems. "I want us to spend time together."

  Jesse smiled, that crooked half smile that told her she'd said just the right thing.

  Cay raised his gaze to hers, and in eyes much like her husband's she read mistrust and doubt.

  Many things had to be learned. Numbers. Spelling. History. Trust.

  Amy prayed she was up to the challenge.

  Chapter Eight

  The room was warm and cozy, a fire flickered in the grate. Cay was a bright young man and already read well, but he needed help with numbers. Amy was pleased with the effort he made and with how well he remembered their teaching.

  As the evening stretched out, Amy made hot cocoa. Jesse had taken to pacing the room like a trapped cougar. He used the poker to stab at the fire when it didn't need tending, then stood over Amy where she sat on the floor beside Cay. She looked up and tried to interpret his mood.

  He had run his hands through his hair so many times, it stood up in wild disarray. He hadn't shaved that day, and the shadow of his beard lent him a dispirited appearance.

  After another half hour of him pacing and torturing the burning logs, she closed the book she and Cay had been looking at. "Cay's been yawning. Jesse, why don't you light the lamp in his room while I put these things away?"

  She picked up the books and slates and carried their mugs to the kitchen.

  Minutes later, Jesse's boots sounded on the stairs. She turned to find him standing on the other side of the kitchen.

  "Would you like coffee or anything?"

  He shook his head.

  She set a kettle on the table. "Would you mind bringing me water? I'm going to soak beans for tomorrow."

  Without bothering to grab his jacket, he picked up the pan and headed out the back door. When he returned he set the full pan on the back of the stove, then took a seat at the table.

  Amy went to the pantry for beans and just as she returned, the back door banged shut. "Jesse?"

  After pouring the beans into the kettle and adding salt, she placed the lid on top, then took a wrap from a hook. His erratic behavior this evening had been disturbing, and she hadn't figured out what was bothering him. Grabbing the lantern from the table, she followed.

  Moonlight illuminated the front of the boardinghouse. Stepping off the back porch onto the board walkway, she glimpsed Jesse carrying something to the barn, Biscuit running at his heels. The door opened, then closed man and dog inside. If Jesse'd gone to do last-minute chores, she would feel silly for following him, but something unexplainable drew her.

  She reached the barn and let herself inside. The scents of animals and hay were familiar, but the sound she heard wasn't. Jesse cursing.

  Amy hurried her steps.

  He was in the tack room, just rising after having bent to pick up a crate. She'd seen a similar crate before, the night he'd cut his hand and sent her to fetch whiskey.

  "What are you doing?"

  He carried his burden past her. "I have something to take care of."

  Biscuit tagged along, tail wagging.

  Again she followed Jesse, this time out the back and across the dark yard to a stand of young maple trees on the slope that led down to the creek.

  There was already one crate on the ground, and he placed the second one beside it.

  He plucked out a bottle, and she thought he was reading the label, but in the darkness he couldn't possibly see the lettering. With a burst of
energy, he flung the bottle toward the base of a tree. Amy jumped at the sound of shattering glass. Whining, Biscuit ran behind her skirts.

  Another bottle followed the first, and another.

  After half a dozen, the pungent smell of strong whiskey assaulted her nostrils. There were eight in the top crate and twelve in the bottom. With deliberate, angry motions Jesse continued until each bottle lay in shards, its contents seeping into the black earth.

  He didn't look at her, but stood with his feet planted wide and dropped his head back.

  Biscuit came out from behind her skirts, trotted to the spot beneath the tree and sniffed. Immediately, the animal backed away and shook its head, giving a canine snort.

  "I had to do that."

  Jesse seemed out of breath, but relieved, as though he'd run a race and won.

  "I couldn't have it out there."

  Amy drew her shawl more tightly around her. Suddenly Jesse's behavior became clear, and she chided herself for her oblivious lack of understanding. She hadn't understood the magnitude of his penchant for whiskey until that moment. All along she'd seen it as a choice he made to avoid her. Now the problem was bigger than that. Maybe it had started out as a choice, but with practice his drinking had gone past simple avoidance to something he needed to get through the nights.

  He'd said so many things that morning when her mind had been focused elsewhere. He'd spoken of the shame he felt when he faced her. It's killing me for you to see what I've become.

  She understood now.

  Without hesitation she walked forward and wrapped her arms around him. His body was tense, and when he placed his hands on her waist, they were trembling.

  "It's going to be all right, Jesse," she promised him. "Whatever it takes, it's going to be all right."

  "I don't know if I'm strong enough," he said against her hair.

  "You are. I know you are." And with that, she took his arm and led him back to the house. She made him coffee and he drank half a cup before they went upstairs.

  In their room he stood at the foot of the bed, not looking at anything, not making an attempt to change out of his clothing. His body had begun to shake.

  With confident movements, Amy unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, revealing his union suit. "Sit on the edge of the bed."

  He did so and she worked off his boots. Then she had him stand so she could unbutton and tug off his underclothes and trousers. When he was naked, she urged him into the bed and drew the covers around him. Still fully dressed, she climbed on top of the quilt beside him to hold him close.

  He drifted to sleep, but woke after half an hour. Perspiration dotted his forehead. She got up, wrung out a cloth in the basin and bathed his face and chest.

  "That feels so good."

  She wiped his lips tenderly.

  "I'm gonna be sick."

  Amy dashed around the end of the bed, grabbed the chamber pot and made it back just as Jesse lost the contents of his stomach.

  "Damn, I'm sorry," he told her.

  "It's all right." She wiped his face again. "Remember the time I was so sick and you sat beside me all night long?"

  "That was different."

  "I don't see how."

  He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. His lips were frighteningly pale. "I'm afraid this is only going to get worse."

  She set the chamber pot away and rinsed the cloth before returning. "Maybe so. But we'll handle it."

  While he dozed, she stayed awake, washed the chamber pot and brought more water.

  As she passed Cay's room he peered out. "What's wrong?"

  "Jesse isn't feeling well. It's okay, you go back to sleep."

  A stricken look flattened the boy's features. He stepped out into the hall, wearing a baggy union suit. "Is he gonna die?"

  "No," she assured him. "He's not going to die."

  "How can you be sure?"

  Amy studied his fearful expression. "You can come see for yourself."

  Carrying the pail of water, she led the way into their bedroom. Jesse was curled on his side, holding his belly. A groan escaped him.

  "What's wrong with him?" Cay asked. "Should we get a doctor?"

  She rinsed a fresh rag and perched on the side of the bed to wipe Jesse's forehead. "I don't know that a doctor would help. Jesse's not—not sick exactly."

  Cay didn't believe her. He stared at his uncle with fear on his young face. He'd lost so many people already. Amy recognized his distress and sympathized with his feelings.

  "Cay," she began. Jesse was beyond listening to her or caring what she was saying at this point, so she plunged ahead. "Jesse's been drinking for months and months."

  Recognition flashed across the boy's face. He'd seen it.

  "Whiskey," he said.

  She nodded. "He doesn't want to get drunk anymore. But it's not an easy thing to stop. His body is crying out for the liquor."

  Beside her, Jesse retched. Cay was the first to grab the pan and hold it for his uncle. Amy marveled over his genuine concern which erased any distaste he may have felt. Cay waited patiently until Jesse rolled back with a groan and closed his eyes.

  The night stretched endlessly. Cay and Amy took turns napping on the other side of the bed while the other one watched over Jesse. They continuously bathed his face and chest with cool water.

  As dawn broke, Jesse sat on the side of the bed and gripped his head in both hands. For Cay's sake, Amy got up out of the rocker, padded to the bureau and found Jesse a pair of drawers.

  "Do you think you could eat anything?"

  She assumed the palm he held up was a no.

  "Maybe later we could try some tea and toast."

  "Hopefully by then I'll be dead," he replied.

  Her gaze shot directly to Cay, who was sitting up on the other side of the bed. Apparently Jesse's words hadn't upset him, because he said, "You're gonna be fine, Uncle Jesse."

  Jesse turned to blearily peer at Cay sitting beside him. Jesse had two or three days' growth of beard, and his eyes were red. "This isn't fittin' for the boy to see."

  "Cay has been here all night," Amy told him. "He's concerned about you, and I appreciate his help."

  "I'm gonna use the outhouse. And maybe I'll try the tea. But that's all."

  Amy only had to look at Cay, and he got up to follow his uncle.

  By mid-morning Jesse was back in bed. Cay assured Amy he could watch over him and that he'd call her if he needed help. She put on breakfast with the other women, did the cleanup and prepared for dinner before making her way outside to find her father.

  Sam was measuring molasses into buckets of grain when she found him at the stables. He looked up.

  "You look tired. Jesse okay?"

  "He's feeling poorly," she admitted. "Last night he broke all his bottles of whiskey so he wouldn't be tempted."

  "Takes a strong man to get over a cravin' like his." Sam straightened and studied her. "He's a strong man."

  She nodded. "I know he is. He most likely won't be up to his work for the time being. I don't know..." Amy shrugged. "How long will he feel this bad?"

  Sam shook his head. "Could be quick, could be slow. I'd guess at least a couple of days of bein' sick. After that, every day will be tough until he has that thirst whipped."

  They were both absorbed in their own thoughts for a few moments. Then Sam surprised her with his tone of voice when he said, "There's somethin' I need to tell you."

  "What is it?"

  He glanced behind her as though making sure no one would overhear. "I made a fool of myself."

  She jumped to a conclusion. "Yelling at Jesse?"

  He shook his head. "No. He had that comin'."

  "What then?"

  "There's more behind it." He scratched his jaw with his thumb. "I'm an old fool. I, uh, got myself tangled up with Eden."

  "I suspected you had feelings for her. I'm sorry you were disappointed."

  "I was sorely disappointed. But, Amy, I'm tryin' to tell you that
I know Jesse wasn't sniffin' around her. She had an appetite for a man, and she wasn't picky about where she satisfied it."

  Amy gave her father a curious look. "What exactly are you saying?"

  "I'm just tellin' you that Eden went after what she wanted. I was duped into thinkin' I was the only one she wanted. I'm convinced she tried to take advantage of Jesse when he'd been drinkin'."

  "I believe that, too," she replied.

  "Just don't turn that occurrence into something it wasn't."

  "He blames himself enough." She glanced away. "He said if he hadn't been out there and if he hadn't been drinking, it wouldn't have happened."

  "Well, those are the facts, but you both had a hand in him bein' out there."

  "I know, Daddy."

  He stepped forward and reached to tip up her chin so he could look into her eyes. "So you two won't be lettin' Eden be another thing that comes between you?"

  "No."

  He kissed her forehead and released her. "I could sit with him a while so you can sleep."

  She shook her head. "I'll sleep whenever he does tonight. Cay is with him now. Thanks for the talk."

  "Thanks for listenin'."

  On the way back to the house her steps were slow. She could easily fall asleep if she stayed in one place for longer than a minute, but she climbed the stairs determinedly.

  Cay sat in the rocker beside Jesse's bed, his chin resting on his chest. She stood beside him for a moment, her hand involuntarily reaching to touch his hair, but she stopped herself and brought it back to her side. She couldn't help thinking about his situation. He'd lost the only person who'd ever cared for him and come to live with strangers. If she'd been uncomfortable with his arrival, she couldn't imagine how awkward he felt.

  And here he was, taking care of Jesse and being an incredible help to her. Strange how things turned out.

  Amy checked on Jesse, kneeling beside the bed to silently pray for him, then left them both to sleep.

  The remainder of the day passed much the same. The hands were subdued at supper. She couldn't imagine what they were thinking. They'd overheard part of the quarrel between her father and Jesse, and Jesse's bottle-smashing rant had probably attracted attention the night before.

  Amy had saved broth from the beef Mrs. Barnes had prepared. After adding barley and a few tiny pieces of vegetables, she carried up a bowl.