by Jillian Hart
Aiden. Whenever she thought of him she had to lock up the feelings in her heart. She was too busy to waste a minute crying for what was never meant to be. She was too vulnerable to really think about what she had done. She had tipped her hand, and Aiden had not only guessed her feelings, he hadn’t spoken to her since, beyond a few thank-you’s, and letting her know the date the threshers were coming. She put his meals in the empty shanty, not knowing how warm the food would be when he finally wandered in from his work. It was her fault that they were both miserable—all her fault.
She would do anything she could to wind back time. To work harder at keeping her feelings hidden. Or, better yet, she should have nipped them in the bud when she first realized she was falling for him. Now, she did not have his friendship or his presence in her life. She was alone all over again, and missed him terribly.
She knelt to unpack the preserves she’d brought, and began setting out enough jars for everyone.
Cora had come to fetch her reticule, but stopped at the colorful sight. “Look at what Joanna brought. The prettiest jams I’ve ever seen.”
“And hopefully the tastiest, too.” Joanna couldn’t help being pleased. She had worked from dawn until dark over a hot stove. Canning was next. “The orchard is brimming with more than we could possibly use. If anyone wants fresh fruit, just let me know.”
“I love peaches. Oh, and plums.” Cora sighed. “I miss having my own trees, living in town as I do.”
“Me, too.” Lanna spoke up, joining them. “I’ll bring dessert next week. If Joanna will let me drop by for a bucket of peaches.”
“Sounds like a treat,” Joanna agreed, unable to remember the last time she’d had this much happiness in her life. Although she was still getting to know these women, she had the feeling they would be good friends for life. She could see her little ones out front on the porch with Ida. James had his wooden mustangs and Daisy had her doll. Both children were well-fed and secure and happy.
The only thing wrong in her life was Aiden. She feared that was something that would never be right again.
Aiden forked fresh hay into the corral manger and watched the horses, tired from their fieldwork, amble over to get their supper. Over their sun-warmed backs, he could see Joanna coming toward the house from the shanty. It ripped him apart to watch her, but he could not seem to look away. No doubt she had delivered the evening meal, and her attention was riveted on the hillside between the houses where her children were playing.
He heard Thad come up behind him with the water bucket. “Why is she bringing our suppers to the shanty?”
Aiden winced, although he had been expecting the question. He set the pitchfork against the wall. “I told you this wasn’t a real marriage. I gave Joanna the house, figured it was better for her and the kids, and I took the shanty.”
“So you really are doing this? You’re married to her but you’re living apart from her.” He upended the bucket into the water bin.
“That’s right. Don’t see as how it’s any of your business.” He tossed his brother a half grin. “Thanks for your help cleaning up, Thad. That storm left quite a mess.”
Although, he was the one who’d felt like a mess that night, talking to Joanna. He flicked his gaze back to her. She was on the kitchen doorstep now, leaning down to speak softly to her son. The boy was looking at the barn and his face was squinted up, as if he was trying not to cry.
She had kept the children away from him; she probably thought he would be happy about that. He wasn’t, but it was just as well. He blew out a sigh and kept to the shadows in the aisle. She soothed her hand over the boy’s head. His nose was slightly pink from playing in the sun.
The boy needed a hat. Joanna ought to buy him one, and if there was a voice at the back of Aiden’s mind saying that he could do it the next time he was in town, he ignored it. It was easier, sure, but sensible not to listen to that. The boy wanted a pa, that was plain to see. That could only spell trouble.
“I’m glad to help, you know that.” Thad lowered the bucket, looking thoughtful. “I was going to head to town tomorrow and see Finn. You want to come?”
“I don’t think he wants to see me.” Aiden watched Joanna as she knelt to give her son a hug. It was a marvel how she radiated love. She was a vision in calico; somehow she was more beautiful to him every time he looked at her. And that tore at him, too.
Thad plodded closer. “I think you need to see him. And then there’s the matter of getting him a lawyer.”
“I don’t see how we can afford to.” Aiden braced himself against that pain, too. He’d let down too many people. “I don’t see how we can afford not to.”
“I talked to Noelle’s friend Lanna. Her husband is a lawyer and he’ll cut his fee for us. What do you think?”
“I can pay half if you can.”
“We’ll figure out a way.” Thad led him down the aisle. “C’mon, I’m hungry enough to eat a bear.”
“That’s two of us, little brother.” He hated that he wanted to drag his feet. Joanna was still in sight. She was lifting two five-gallon buckets, empty now, and swinging them as she walked. Thank heavens she was heading away from him. He wouldn’t have to face her and remember the other night, when he had let her think that he regretted marrying her.
“Aiden, do you reckon she left us any pie?”
“There’s a mighty good chance.” There she was, about to round the far corner of the house. He drank in the sight of her, trying to harden his heart, fighting to keep from caring, but it came anyway. His feelings for her were sweet like spring. Two more steps, a swish of her pretty green skirt, and she was gone from his sight.
But the caring in his heart remained.
“Look at this place.” Thad’s voice brought him back to the moment.
They were standing in the shadow of the shanty. The amber prairie rolled out before them in a thousand shades of tan and yellow, but where did his eye go? Toward the far corner of the orchard that he could see. There was no sign of Joanna, but he knew she was there, picking fruit.
He ought to be out there helping her, but he couldn’t make himself do it. So he followed his brother into the small house and went to wash his hands at the basin.
“I can’t believe this is the same shanty.” Thad glanced around as he passed Aiden the soap. “She put up new curtains for you and everything.”
She had made such a difference here.
All he had to do was look around to see the spotless and polished stove, the gleaming counters and shelves, the gingham curtains, clean and pressed and fluttering in the breeze from the screened window. A cloth lay over the table, where supper for two was set out and covered and two place settings awaited them.
“Peach cobbler,” Thad exclaimed as he lifted one of the tins. “It’s my lucky day. Tell me again why you’re not in love with that woman?”
Aiden winced, and rinsed his hands in the basin, glad he could turn his back to his brother. He didn’t want him to guess at the truth. He cleared his throat, wishing words alone were powerful enough to change his heart. “Love ought to be based on more than a well-baked dessert. But I don’t want anything to do with love, anyway.” He took the towel from the rack and ignored the subtle scent of sunshine and the soap Joanna used. “I’m not building my life on something that can be gone in a flash. It’s foolish, plain and simple. It’s not what life is about.”
“I see.”
It was the quiet way his brother said the words that made his lungs seize up. His hands fumbled as he hung the towel. “I’m glad you understand then.”
“I do.”
The way he said that made Aiden grimace. “You think I love her.”
“Yep.” Thad looked mighty sure of himself as he poured tea into the glasses that Joanna had left them. “I think she loves you back. Look at all she’s done for you. This meal. She spent time on this. She put care into this. She could have spent half the effort and it would have been more than enough.”
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��She’s a hard worker. It has nothing to do with me.” He didn’t believe it, but he wanted it to be the truth. More than anything. His hands shook as he pulled out the ladder-back chair at the table. There were comfortable cushions tied neatly to the chair seat and back. Joanna, again.
“You can say it all you want—” Thad stared as he settled across the table “—but that won’t make it true. I know. I’ve been where you are. Letting yourself fall in love with a woman is a risk. There’s no guarantee you won’t get your heart broken in the end.”
“You make too little of it.” Pressure built in Aiden’s chest, expanding against his ribs. He’d had enough of this talk. Instead of saying what he meant, he bowed his head for prayer. Since his throat was hurting, too, he growled, “You say the blessing.”
“I’ll say it when I’m good and ready, big brother.” Thad looked to be in one of his stubborn moods. “You listen to me. You’ve got a mighty nice woman for a wife, and I think you’re falling in love with her and it scares you to death.”
“You don’t think I haven’t turned to my faith on this?” He leaned back in his chair, hurting, just hurting. Why wouldn’t Thad leave it alone? “I’ve prayed for years on this. I’ve prayed until I’ve run out of prayers. I trust God knew what he was doing when he took Kate and my son from me. I don’t know why, but everything God does for us is because he loves us. I accept that. But what I can’t do is lay everything I am on the line again and lose what is most precious to me. I can’t do it. I won’t. I’m not strong enough.”
There. He watched the realization dawn in his brother’s expression, his brother who had always been someone he could count on, and he gave thanks, as he bowed his head, for Thad. “Are you going to say grace, or am I going to?”
“I’ll say it.” His brother bowed his head, beginning the prayer.
Aiden hardly heard it. What he heard was the rapid swish of his pulse in his ears and the truth in his heart.
The days had fallen into a rhythm, but although life was pleasant, Joanna couldn’t say she was happy. Mornings were spent on chores around the house, and if she didn’t work for Noelle or Cora, she squeezed in all the time she could working outside. Now, as she carefully twisted a peach from the branch of the reaching tree, she checked between the leaves for her little ones.
There was Daisy, sitting in a patch of small-faced sunflowers. She had a chain of them around her neck and was making what looked like a bracelet to go with it. James was not next to her. His wooden horses were there in the grass, but he was missing.
She laid the peach in the basket, slipped down the stepladder and scanned the orchard. Nothing. She didn’t see him behind any of the trees or climbing in the branches. How had he scampered off? And why? He knew better. Then she saw Aiden talking to Thad in front of the barn, leading Clyde by the reins. The big draft horse was saddled and had his nose toward the ground, stretching out as if he was scenting something. Or somebody.
James. There he was, partly hidden by the dip of the rise, wandering close to the men and their horses. Thad’s mustang gave a low nicker and turned, swishing his tail. Both horses watched the little boy hungrily, stretching out for the first fond caress.
She swept Daisy onto her hip and was already at the orchard gate when she saw Aiden focus in on the boy. With every step she took closer, she could more clearly see the strain on his face, the shadows in his eyes and the white lines around his tense mouth. Yet he was kind as he leaned down to speak to her son. James’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head.
“…you oughtn’t to run off on your ma like that.” Aiden’s low tones drifted toward her. “Here she comes. She’s in a panic, if you ask me.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’d best tell that to her.” Those words were kind, but she knew they cost him. All she had to do was look at how tight Aiden was holding himself to know.
She ached for him and for her son. Her soul felt near to cracking as she bundled the affection for him away, storing it down deep. With any luck, it would be deep enough not to show. She set Daisy on the ground. “I’m sorry, Aiden. He snuck off on me. Hello, Thad.”
“Howdy, Joanna.” He lifted his hat in greeting. If any man could stand next to Aiden and hold his own, it was Thad. They were clearly good men cut from the same cloth.
“I’ve got a crate of apples and peaches in the lean-to set aside for you. Maybe one of plums, if I can get to it.” She took hold of her son’s shoulder. “I’ll have Aiden bring them in the wagon on Sunday.”
“That’s mighty kind of you.” Thad mounted up. “We’re going in to town to see Finn, although I reckon Aiden has probably already told you that.”
No, he hadn’t, but Joanna bit her lip. What Aiden chose to do with his time was surely not her concern. If it hurt that he hadn’t turned to her and that he would not, she had to tuck that down deep inside, too. “I hope your visit goes well. I’ve been praying for Finn.”
“That’s gotta help.” Thad tipped his hat to her before he wheeled his mustang around. “Come Sunday, I’ll let you have another ride on Sunny. What do you think about that, James?”
“That would sure be swell.” The boy drew his shoulders up, hope vibrating through him.
“I get to, too,” Daisy called out, holding out her handful of flowers. Clyde took a couple out of her hand as he walked by.
There was Aiden, towering far above them on the back of the giant horse. He sat rigidly straight, as controlled as a soldier, as remote as the farthest horizon. His mighty shoulders were braced, as if he were carrying a world of burdens on them. He did not look at Joanna as he passed by, but she could see the cords bunch in his neck and the muscles in his jaw clench tight.
If only she could forget his words. Don’t think I don’t want to. I wish I could. Prayer hasn’t helped. I can’t find my heart. Sometimes you lose too much of yourself and you can’t get it back.
She watched him ride away into the sinking sun with regret weighing heavily upon her. Regret for rushing into marrying him. Regret for being a reminder of what he had lost. Regret for the love alive and committed in her heart, this time for a man who wanted to love her but never could.
“Ma, can you tie this up for me?” Daisy’s innocent request broke into her thoughts.
Again, she tucked both her love and her hurt away, and knelt to twist the last flower into place around her daughter’s little wrist, completing the chain.
“Ma?” James stood with his hands at his sides, watching Aiden disappear around the distant bend. “When I grow up, I want to ride a black horse, too.”
James’s admiration was sky-high for the man he wanted to be his pa. Another arrow straight to her heart. Joanna winced at the inner pain. Was this the way it was going to go? James pining quietly for a father, and Aiden always riding away? She was no different, she realized, wanting what could not be.
What could never be.
She took each child by the hand and headed back to the orchard. Whether she was happy or not, there was work waiting. She would have plenty of time to rest on snowy winter afternoons and think of her mistakes then—and of the man who would be sitting alone in his shanty, always separate from her.
From them.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning the hurt on Joanna’s face still troubled him. Maybe because it was difficult thinking of his little brother locked up behind steel bars. Finn had refused to see him. Or maybe because his failures weighed heavy on his soul. Either way, he didn’t feel prepared for how she watched the ground instead of the world around her as she came out of the house in her Sunday best.
Her daughter hopped down the steps in two-footed jumps, her white-blond braids bouncing. The son saw him and took off at a run, eager to see the horses. Clyde gave a snort of welcome and stretched against the harness collar, reaching his neck as far as it would go.
“’Mornin’, sir. Thank you kindly for the hat!” The boy skidded to a stop in front of Clyde, who was calm enough no
t to bat an eye. The gentle giant gave a low nicker and lipped the boy’s hat brim affectionately.
Aiden nodded. It was the best he could do. He’d left the Stetson on the kitchen table late last night, knowing it would be found this morning. He held his heart firm and prayed that Joanna would hurry up so they could get this over with.
Heaven didn’t seem to be listening today. Joanna was taking her sweet time, locking the door, checking the lock, grasping her daughter’s hand. Every step she took toward the wagon seemed slower than the last. He shuffled his polished boots in the chalky dust, trying not to see the dread on her face or the little boy giggling softly as he petted the horses.
“Thank you for James’s cowboy hat. He loves it.” Her gaze was fixed on the wagon instead of on Aiden.
“Sure.” That one word seemed to stick in his throat. Maybe because the bonnet she wore made her eyes bluer than wildflowers. Delicate curls fell down to frame her gentle face, making him remember the night they had stood not far from here, and how he had held her face in his hands, her sweetness in his soul.
He hadn’t wanted to admit that then, but for some reason it was easier now when there was a vast distance between them. A distance so wide there was no way to cross it. They both knew it. Even if he risked everything within him by telling her how he felt, it wouldn’t matter. He had hurt her, and now she watched at him with dismay.
“We’d best get on the road,” he said, holding out his hand to help her up.
She didn’t take it. With a little hitch to her chin, she swung her daughter into the back of the wagon. That smarted a bit. He told himself it was just as well. Taking her hand would only bring him closer to her. And being closer to her was the one place he could not be. He waited until she was safely over the top rail before he climbed up onto the high seat.
“James,” Joanna called out. “Leave the horses, honey, and climb up.”