by Jillian Hart
“I have dinner waiting for us at home,” he said quietly.
Did he mean...? Hope beat in her heart. Home. It had been a lifetime since that word meant anything to her. She had been a small girl. Libby remembered the little trundle bed tucked in the corner of the shanty where she slept at night, safe from the rain and the wind and the harshness of the world. Now she caressed the word over and over in her mind, as if home could mean that again.
“Do you mean—” she didn’t dare hope “—you haven’t changed your mind?”
“You have come only to meet us, nothing more.” Jacob turned toward the door. His boots rang on the floorboards. “You and I may decide not to marry for many reasons. I’m willing to see what happens.”
He was such a fair man. Libby’s chest ached. Please, let it work out.
“I just don’t want Emma hurt.” His cool gaze trapped hers with the weight of his heart.
“Then we are in agreement. I don’t want her hurt, either.”
Jacob smiled. Truly smiled. Libby watched his face soften and the tension in his shoulders ease. This man, with his gentle smile warming the stark gray of his eyes, was the man she’d dreamed of.
“Emma can talk the ears off a mule, if she sets her mind to it,” he said, leading the way out into the hall. “I thought I’d better warn you.”
A lightness burst in Libby’s chest. “She’s a lively child.”
“And too much for me to raise all alone.” He waited while she closed and locked her door. “I’m outnumbered.”
“And I suspect Emma knows it.”
“Yes, she uses it to her advantage constantly.” Jacob’s smile sparkled.
Libby felt dazzled all the way to her toes. Somehow she managed to walk down the stairs and through the hotel’s busy lobby without tripping. He was willing to see what happens. She wanted him so much. She’d never met a man like him before.
The sun threw long-fingered rays across the sky and slanted into her eyes when she stepped out onto the boardwalk. She blinked against the light as Jacob halted beside a small, well-kept buckboard.
“Are you ready?” His gray eyes swept hers.
“I think so.”
He offered his hand.
Big fingers closed over hers and, palm to palm, he helped her up into the wagon. Her heart did crazy flipflops. She settled on the buckboard’s comfortable seat, waiting for Jacob to circle around the vehicle and join her.
It was going to work out. It had to. She had never wanted anything so much.
“Emma named the horses.” He hopped up and settled into the seat beside her. The buckboard swayed slightly, adjusting to his weight. “She insisted.”
“Life must be like sunshine sharing it with her.”
Jacob gripped the thick leather reins. “Yes. That little girl is everything to me.”
“I can see why.” Libby looked at the package she clutched safely in her lap. Would Emma like the doll? It was homemade, not bought at a fancy store. The sleek, perfectly matched bays drawing this handsome buckboard told her something new about Jacob: He wasn’t poor the way she was.
“The near one is Pete,” he said with an easy grin. “The other is Repeat.”
Libby laughed.
Smile lines crinkled around Jacob’s sparkling eyes.
He didn’t need to tell her which house was his. She knew without words when it came into view, tucked between the thick boughs of cedar and pine. Neat and tidy, with precisely cut logs and thick stripes of chinking, the log cabin sat in a small clearing. Two large windows watched them from either side of a solid wood door. The house looked sturdy and cozy and built to withstand an eternity of winters.
Home. The one word buzzed through her mind, rendering her incapable of speech. She felt warm down to her toes.
Jacob reined in the horses with the jangle of the harness, and Libby stared at the house, trying not to let her hopes grow.
The door flew open and Emma’s red-dressed figure hurled into view, braids flying, black-shoed feet pounding the hard-packed earth. “You’re here! I’ve been waiting forever.”
Libby laughed. Happiness welled in her heart, spilling over with joy. With the sun slanting through the thickboughed pines and the sight of the little girl bouncing to a stop before her, Libby’s throat filled with happy tears. She knew every hardship in her life had brought her here, to this shining, singular moment.
She’d come home.
Chapter Three
Nothing in Libby’s life had ever prepared her for this heart-aching hope smoldering inside her chest. Like embers, she could feel that hope burn.
“We’re having a treat for dessert.” Emma’s voice rang like a merry bell in the hot air. “I’m not supposed to tell what it is because it’s a secret.”
“A secret dessert?” Libby repeated, enchanted.
Emma nodded. Excitement pinkened her cheeks. “We worked on it this morning to pass the time. Your stage didn’t come in until noon, and I couldn’t wait.”
“Neither could I.”
Emma clasped her hands together. “Jane and me made pie...ah, the dessert and then it was time to go meet you.”
Libby’s throat felt too full to speak.
“It’s even a secret from Pa,” the little girl confessed.
“That’s enough now, Emma,” Jacob circled around the wagon, his voice gently amused. “Don’t wear out Miss Hodges’ ear before we even get her inside the house.”
“Ah, Pa. How can I wear out her ear? Ears don’t wear out.”
“Yes they do. You know Grandpa can’t hear well.”
Emma laughed wholeheartedly. “That’s because he’s old.”
“It’s because you talked too much.”
They could be a family. Libby’s chest hurt just thinking of it.
“May I help you down?” Jacob offered his hand.
She slipped her bare fingers into his broad palm. Male-hot skin scorched hers. Libby swallowed at the sensation. He overwhelmed her like a dream, a hero, a fairy-tale prince come true. Her stomach twisted with a knot of need. She hadn’t been sick all day. Maybe it was all right. Maybe she could have her own happy ending.
Libby hopped to the ground, skirts swishing. She kicked up a small puff of dust with the impact of her worn shoes against the solid earth.
“I like your doll.”
At the sight of Emma’s shy, wistful face, Libby had no doubts. She had chosen her gift to the girl well. “This isn’t my doll.”
“She isn’t?” Hope shivered in those words.
“No. I made her.”
“You made her?” Her mouth opened into a round O.
“Yes. I chose everything carefully. The big blue button eyes. The brown yarn braids. The calico dress.”
“It’s red too. We match.”
“Yes. It’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Emma nodded solemnly, the puff of wind teasing her skirt. “Did you make her for me?”
“Yes.”
Emma didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe.
“She doesn’t have a name yet. I thought you might have a few ideas.” Libby stepped closer and pressed the gift against the girl’s chest. Immediately those reed thin arms embraced the rag doll, hugging her hard.
“Oh, thank you!” Now that Emma had found her voice, it vibrated with the deepest joy. “Pa, look! I have a real doll! Not just a wooden carving, but a real doll!”
“I see that, Emma.” Jacob’s eyes twinkled.
Emma squeezed her doll tightly. “Oh, I do hope you can stay with us.”
Silence.
Libby stared hard at the ruffle hemming her skirts. She could feel Jacob’s gaze on her, feel his silence.
“Well, now, Emma, you know we’ll just have to wait and see how things work out.” His words came gently, like a loving touch.
Libby’s eyes smarted. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant.
“Pa, Miss Hodges has to stay. Everything is going to be perfect. I just know it.”
/> Libby glanced up. Jacob pinned her with his hard, assessing gaze. Her heart kicked in her chest. If only he could understand.
“Dinner’s ready!” a woman’s voice called from the door, fracturing the tension strung as tight as a clothesline.
“Thanks, Jane.” Jacob snagged hold of the harness, turning his back to Libby. “I’ve got to take care of these horses. Emma, take Miss Hodges into the cabin.”
“Can I show her my room?”
Libby closed her eyes. She could feel dreams slipping between her fingers, impossible to grasp.
“Just don’t keep Jane waiting.” Jacob led the horses off, the buckboard rattling over the rocks and ruts in the yard.
“Jane made chicken pie.” Emma slipped her small hand inside Libby’s. “I helped her. I got to make the dough and everything.”
Libby stared down at the hand within hers, so small and trusting. “I bet it will be the best chicken pie I’ve ever had.”
“Jane put carrots and peas in it.” Emma led the way across the dusty front yard toward the snug cabin.
Heavens. Libby paused in the threshold, glancing about the pleasant room with its puncheon floors and log walls and simple furnishings. Emma bounced through the front room as if there were nothing special about the solid walls so carefully made and sealed tight against the winds. But to her...this cabin came right out of her dreams.
Libby belonged here. She could feel it. A tremble of joy shivered through her.
“It isn’t much.” Jacob’s voice startled her, and she spun around.
He could read the surprise on her face. She hadn’t heard him approach.
“Oh.” She placed a slender hand to her chest. “This is the most beautiful home. Did you build it yourself?”
“Yes. Felled the trees. Chinked the walls. It’s snug and it’s sturdy.” Pride simmered in his chest. No matter what she was, Elizabeth Hodges was a woman of simple tastes. He liked that.
“It’s so roomy and bright.” Her eyes shone not with greed or want, but with something deeper. “Why, with curtains at the windows and a rug on the floor, this would look like a picture in a book.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”
She confused him. He didn’t know if he wanted to marry a woman with a questionable reputation. Yet he liked her. She was soft and pretty. He suspected life had not been easy for her, a woman alone in the world.
“Pa, come on.” Emma crowded next to Elizabeth, grabbing hold of the woman’s capable hands. “Jane’s puttin’ supper on the table. I want to show Miss Hodges where to sit.”
Alone on the front step, Jacob watched his little girl drag Elizabeth away. It was best not to think of the future.
But as he glanced about his simple, adequate home, he noticed the polished furniture and the glistening windowpanes. Jane and Emma must have scrubbed the room from floor to ceiling hoping to make a good impression.
Now she stood at the table, patiently listening while Emma set her doll down in the chair by the window, as if to make the rag doll a part of the family. Elizabeth leaned down and meant to brush a strand of hair from Emma’s eyes but snatched back her hand, uncertain.
Jacob’s stomach tightened. He could see the goodness in her. He didn’t want to like her.
“Come sit down while it’s still hot,” Jane said, barreling around the corner with the potatoes steaming in a glass bowl.
He clomped across the room and pulled back his chair. Elizabeth looked so uncertain. She certainly wasn’t a bad woman. He had to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Go ahead and sit down. I’m wagering Emma has a chair all picked out for you.”
“She’s sittin’ beside me.” The girl beamed.
“I could have guessed that.” Jacob sat down in his chair.
Emma grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and showed her to the chair between them. The woman looked overwhelmed. She lifted her chin and happiness filled her eyes.
“This is all so wonderful,” she said in a voice as gentle as morning. “I’m just so grateful to be here.”
“I’m glad, too,” Emma chimed.
Guilt kicked Jacob like an ill-tempered mule. He’d not been fair to Elizabeth Hodges from the start. Promising her marriage when he never intended to love her. He’d dreaded her arrival, and if it hadn’t been for Emma, Elizabeth wouldn’t be sitting at his table right now, pregnant or not.
“I picked the beans fresh today.” Emma clutched the cut-glass bowl in both small hands. “You like beans, don’t you Miss Hodges?”
“I love them.” Delight shimmered in her eyes like sunlight playing in the creek.
He’d harbored so many worries. Would she be a decent woman? Would she be a loyal wife? A loving mother? They evaporated now like fog before sun.
“Pa bought these hair ribbons just for tonight,” Emma chattered. “They’re velvet. For a special occasion, Jane said.”
“Very fancy. The color makes you look very pretty.”
Emma beamed. “Tell me about the Indians. They ride their ponies bareback.”
“Yes, they do.”
Jacob could hardly swallow, and he stared down at his empty plate. He hadn’t dished up. Now, he wasn’t hungry. He reached for the bowl of beans Elizabeth passed to him. His fingers brushed hers, and in that instant of contact he raised his gaze. Their eyes met and held.
He had to start risking again, for Emma’s sake. His gut clenched. If only it wasn’t so hard. If only...
“I want to ride a pony wild in the meadows,” Emma’s voice broke between them. “Would you let me, Pa?”
“Not a chance.”
“I knew you were gonna say that.”
Unable to move, Libby sat perfectly still, her heart beating wildly like the wings of a grounded bird. Happiness threatened to fill her up so full she couldn’t breathe. The normal sounds of the meal—Emma’s fork scraping against her tin plate, the clink of the pan as Jacob dished up generous pieces of succulent chicken pie, the tinkle of water in the glasses amazed her. She’d never known a home like this, safe and cozy, so happy.
Emma asked questions about riding in the stage. Between mouthfuls of the good food, Libby answered the best she could. No, they didn’t meet any road agents on the trail. No, they didn’t get robbed. Yes, the teams of horses were pretty.
“You can see why my father went deaf,” Jacob mumbled.
“Pa!” Emma protested, laughing at the same time.
Happiness skidded down Libby’s spine like cool water, refreshing and sustaining. “I think I’m losing hearing in this one ear.”
Emma giggled.
“I told you, you talk too much,” Jacob teased.
Oh, no. Libby placed a hand on her stomach. The laughter slid from her mouth and she stood, fighting the abrupt twist of nausea rising in her stomach.
It couldn’t be. She knocked over her chair and bolted for the door. Tears blurred her vision as she pounded down the front steps, holding her skirts out of the way as she raced blindly around the house. A second twist of nausea roiled in her belly, and she tasted the acidic burn of bile.
She would not leave a mess in the yard.
The outhouse was a tidy, sturdy building just behind the cabin. Libby raced past the elderly woman’s surprised face, and flung open the privy’s simple door. She fell to her knees on the clean floorboards and leaned over the carved hole.
The contents of her stomach hurled violently up her throat, and Libby didn’t hold back her hot tears or her choking sobs. After three violent retches, her stomach was empty.
Exhausted and hopeless, Libby leaned against the wall and buried her face in her hands. There was no blaming this on travel sickness. She was pregnant.
“Are you all right, dear?”
Libby raised her face from her hands and turned to gaze up at the spry, time-weathered woman. A gentle understanding shone in Jane’s eyes.
“I will be fine,” Libby insisted, firming her chin. She climbed to her feet and dusted off her skirt.
�
�I only hope it wasn’t my cookin’,” Jane said lightly, although no humor shone in her eyes. “My Albert always used to say my cookin’ could rot a man’s gut.”
“No, it wasn’t your cooking, trust me.” Libby summoned up a polite smile.
“I see.” Sober eyes looked up into her own. “Well, now, Jacob’s here. I suppose you’ll be wantin’ to talk to him. Emma, come with me into the house and show me that new doll of yours.”
As the woman and small girl ambled off, Libby could feel the weight of Jacob’s gaze. The pain of what she had just lost speared through her like an Indian’s arrowhead. This couldn’t be happening.
He said nothing, and the silence stood between them as the weight of the night began to drain the webby light from the sky.
“I thought you said you weren’t sure.”
Holding the pieces of her heart, she managed an answer. “I wasn’t.”
The wind tugged at her skirts. An owl hooted from the high boughs of a nearby pine.
Pregnant. Jacob fisted his hands, wanting to will the truth away. He studied her pale face. His gaze swept downward. Her stomach looked so flat. She looked so fragile.
He glanced up to read the pain in her eyes and saw the broken pieces of her heart. He twisted away, marching out toward the stable, then stopped. Frustrated. Angry. He didn’t know what to do. “You lied to me. You came here tonight knowing your condition.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that to you. To Emma.”
“You had to know. Were you going to use me? Did you accept my offer to cover your own mistakes? To come here and pretend the bastard was mine?”
“Not exactly. I wasn’t sure—”
Anger flashed through him. “I’m not about to let you use me. Or Emma. She’s the reason you are here in the first place.”
“I never meant—”
“She needs a mother, not a lying woman of questionable reputation.” Jacob closed his eyes. It wasn’t fair. He was angry with himself. Angry for agreeing to find a mother for Emma. Angry for thinking such a plan would ever work.
“I’m sorry.” The words squeaked, broken by emotion. He looked at Elizabeth. He remembered the look of affection on her pretty oval face when she’d shown him the rag doll, remembered the way she’d almost brushed the curls from Emma’s eyes, and her loving manner as she joked with the girl.