Last Chance Bride

by Jillian Hart

  Jacob’s gaze swiveled to the empty rocker, a physical reminder of everything he’d lost. “I guess we can see if the lady I pay to do our laundry can fix that hole for you.”

  “Libby could do it.” So much hope in those eyes. So much sadness, too.

  “No, Emma. Elizabeth doesn’t belong with us.” He said it, knowing it was a lie. Knowing the only reason she wasn’t sitting in that chair, her knitting needles clacking above the snap and pop of the fire, was because of him.

  He couldn’t bury another wife. He couldn’t lose another future. He couldn’t be responsible for another woman’s death.

  Emma sighed and walked off with the sock. He lifted his volume and stared at the title. The Mill on the Floss. Elizabeth would have enjoyed this book.

  Just the thought of sharing a novel with her, read here before the cozy fire, filled him with loneliness, with loss. Not since he’d lost Mary had he felt so alone. For the first time in more years than he could count, he pined for the library in his father’s home, the smell of something delicious baking in Mother’s kitchen, the smell of bluegrass in spring.

  Everything he’d held back, rushed over him like an avalanche, burying him with pieces of his old life, memories of joy he used to share there with his family and here in Elizabeth’s arms. It all came together, became whole, his past and his present joined.

  “Pa?” Emma walked toward him, dragging her feet. She used to skip and run before Elizabeth left. “I don’t wanna go to school today.”

  Mrs. Holt was always Emma’s biggest burden.

  Jacob stood, stretched his aching leg. “I don’t want to go to the livery today, either.”

  “You don’t?” Confusion muddied Emma’s big eyes.

  He almost grinned. He was damn tired of burying himself in his work, in this wilderness, in his cabin without neighbors. Loneliness had a cure. And grief...well, maybe grief did, too. What was it Elizabeth had said? Some people have nothing. No family, no home, no sunshine of a daughter waiting to fill up their lonely lives.

  He held out his hand and felt Emma wrap her small fingers around his, holding on. Need. It bound families, joined hearts and created life. Maybe it was all right to let himself need the love of his daughter. And more. He needed more.

  “Let’s go to Ellington’s and pick out something just for you,” he suggested. “Afterward I’ll take you to dinner.”

  A small spark flickered in those sad eyes. “Can I have fried chicken? It’s my favorite. Granny used to make it for me all the time.”

  “Sure.” His throat ached.

  He helped Emma into her wraps, bundling her well against the cold winds. She was precious. But the fact he could lose her didn’t stop him from loving her. Life came with so many risks. Life, love, death. All had a season, a time and a place.

  The world was so uncertain, nature sometimes cruel. But love, like a candle burning, could fill any darkness. Jacob gave Emma a little hug. He’d been so lonely without Elizabeth, living as if she no longer existed.

  But she lived, and her love, like a candle, could help him find his way home.

  “Pa, this isn’t the diner,” Emma pointed out. “This is a hotel.”

  “They serve fried chicken here, too.” His heart rattled in his chest as he stared at the sign. Leah’s hotel. Elizabeth worked here until the end of the week, when the stages started running again. Maude had told him so.

  He took Emma by the hand and led her into the dining room. Neat, crisp, clean. And busy. Leah met them, surprise flashing across her wise face.

  “Seat us in Elizabeth’s section,” he said quietly.

  “Goody,” Emma said as he settled her into a hardbacked chair. Then with wonder, “Pa, it’s Libby.”

  Lord, she looked good. Like sunshine after a long winter. Bright. Shining. And slim. His gaze devoured her, tenderly remembering the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the way she dipped her chin. She wore a green calico dress and a white apron tied around her small waist. With her hair knotted at her nape, she looked more beautiful than when she’d first alighted from the stage, full of hope and dreams.

  Then she turned, saw him. Surprise burned in her blue eyes, softened her dear face. She mouthed his name, Jacob.

  Seeing the love in her eyes, feeling it answer in his heart, he had no choice, not anymore. He’d lost Mary, but he hadn’t lost Elizabeth.

  Life shone in her eyes, and the passion and affection she couldn’t hide. She crossed the room, his heart stopped, his entire world stood still.

  He didn’t know what would happen in this life, but he needed the opportunity to love her completely, truly.

  “Jacob. Emma.” Love shimmered in her voice, even as she tried to hide it.

  “Libby!”

  Emma bounced off her chair and ran straight into Elizabeth’s full skirts, wrapping both thin arms around the beloved woman’s waist, holding on as if she never intended to let go.

  “I’m so glad to see you, Emma.” Elizabeth straightened away, lifting tentative fingers to brush the curls from Emma’s happy eyes.

  “You’re looking well,” Jacob managed to mumble. He wanted to say so much more. He loved her. Deeply. Honestly. Without fear.

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth stiffened, set her chin. “What would you like for dinner? Fried chicken is the special today.”

  “That’s what I want,” Emma said happily.

  “I knew you’d say that.” Elizabeth smiled.

  And knocked his heart off-kilter. “I’d like that, too.”

  “Chicken?” She lifted her brow.

  No. You. But he managed to nod. “Maude mentioned you’re leaving town at the end of the week.”

  Her eyes flashed, her chin lifted. “Yes. The stage is leaving and I’ll be on it. I’m going to Chicago.”

  So much pride. Jacob’s throat tightened. Did she want him? Was it too late? You pushed her away, you damn fool. You tossed away the most precious of gifts. She isn’t going to forgive you now.

  He couldn’t leave without the question he had to ask her. But one look at her set face, her eyes flaring, made him hesitate.

  “I’ll be back with your meals,” she said firmly, then flashed Emma a private smile.

  “Pa, did you know Libby worked here?” Emma demanded.

  His gaze swept across her button face, shining with love for the mother she’d chosen. His throat worked. “Yes, I knew. Why did you think I brought you here?”

  “To get Libby?”

  “To bring her home.” The words felt so good, they filled his heart.

  “Jacob Stone is still in the dining room waiting for you,” Leah said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Did you want me to send him away?”

  “No.” Libby’s heart ached. If only she didn’t love him so much. “I want to see Emma one more time.”

  She carefully dried a dish and stacked it on the kitchen worktable.

  “Then don’t keep him waiting, honey. I’ll finish up the dishes.” Leah took the towel. “Go on, now.”

  With her heart held carefully, Libby pushed through the double kitchen doors and froze. Gentle sunshine filtered through the window, washing Jacob with lemony light. He looked so good, his shoulders just as dependable, his black hair a little longer, and the sound of his low rumbling voice melted her spine. He sat shoulder to shoulder with little Emma at the window, heads bowed together as they discussed the horses out on the street.

  Her heart tugged. Father and daughter. They were so alike.

  “Where’s Lottie?” Emma asked, startling her from her thoughts.

  Libby remembered to breathe. “My friend Maude is taking care of her while I work.”

  “Can I see her?” Such eager eyes.

  Libby glanced at Jacob.

  He stood. “Later, Emma. Right now I want to talk to Elizabeth.”

  “Jacob, no, I don’t think there’s anything more we have to say to one another.” She took a step back. Love for him burned in her heart, true and pure and for
ever. But he didn’t love her like that, he didn’t—

  “Elizabeth.” He caught her hand. Tiny tendrils of sensation sizzled where he touched her. “This has been a hard month for me missing you.”

  She set her chin, pride fierce in her stance. “I’m leaving town.”

  “So am I.” He paused, feeling awkward, hunting for the right words. “Maybe you could travel home with Emma and me.”

  No, that wasn’t right. Her chin came up. Her hands fisted.

  “I know I’m the one who changed, Jacob. I came here understanding we would begin as friends, but I thought in time we could have a good friendship. A real marriage. But you didn’t want that, at least you don’t want that with me. So why would I go to Kentucky with you?”

  She wasn’t angry; her voice rang warm and honest, gentle even when he’d hurt her. Her chin lifted, set firm with determination.

  He looked into her eyes so gentle he could trust her with his life, with his future. He knew it was right, going home, bringing his life full circle, starting anew.

  “You’re a good man, Jacob. The best I’ve ever known. But I don’t want you feeling as if you owe me something for loving you, for sharing a bed with you. You’ve given me more than any man, and it’s enough. I don’t need you anymore.”

  Like a gunshot to his heart, Jacob staggered. “I think you’re lying.”

  “Think again.” She headed toward the door with a swirl of green calico skirts, her head held high, her hands fisted. Too afraid to trust him, of being hurt again.

  He followed her right out the door, down the steps and onto the icy street. “Elizabeth.”

  She whirled, faced him. The wind tugged at her skirts, teased wispy curls from her fashionable knot. Curls that brushed her face the way he ached to touch her. Unbidden, the image of loving in the dark, tender and soul-rending, flashed through his mind.

  He dared to reach up and lay his palm against the soft curve of her jaw. “I could have lost you, Elizabeth. Something could have gone wrong during the birth.”

  “But it didn’t.”

  “If something had gone wrong, I couldn’t have saved you.”

  “Jacob, you already have.”

  It was true. She had saved him, too, made him whole, gave him a future. Looking into her honest blue eyes, he could see his own happiness, a new home on his Kentucky land, working long days beside his father, teaching two little girls to ride.

  “Come live with me, Elizabeth. Let me show you I can be the man you need.”

  She dipped her chin. “Jacob, I’m not sure. You couldn’t love me. I was only a friend to you, I—”

  “You’re wrong.” In his heart, there was no more fear, only love. For her. For a future with her. “I love you and I’m not going to let you go.”

  “Jacob.” Tears brimmed her eyes.

  “I’ve been thinking about placing an advertisement for a wife,” he said, taking her hand, holding it tight.

  “An advertisement?” Her eyes widened, then she smiled. The busy street, the windy day, Emma watching from the window overhead melted away until there was only Elizabeth’s smile, only her beautiful face.

  “I’m looking for a real wife,” he said. “Someone who is kind, who has always wanted a daughter, who is strong enough to forgive me no matter what happens in this life.”

  Hope as bright as dawn sparkled in her eyes. “What an amazing coincidence. I’m looking for a real husband. Someone to be a father to my daughter. Someone gentle enough to fill my whole life.”

  Her skin felt soft, sweet with the memory of every time he’d loved her. Jacob felt renewed, like sunshine after winter. He felt strong, the way a new foal learns to run. Hope lived in his heart. They would marry, have more children.

  “Come home with me, Elizabeth. Build a life with me. Build dreams with me.”

  She stared up at him, forever shining in her eyes. “Only if you do me one favor.”

  There was so much he wanted to give her, to share with her, to tell her about. The beautiful Kentucky hills, the scent of bluegrass, his mother’s warm kitchen. “Anything.”

  “Call me Libby.”

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-6109-9

  LAST CHANCE BRIDE

  Copyright © 1998 by Jill Strickler

  All rights reserved Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden Without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterpnses Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road. Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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