“My mother used to make quilts. This is one of hers.”
Meera raised a brow. The mother you cut out of your life. She eyed the quilt. If he didn’t care about his mother, why did he keep it on his bed?
There was a dresser and a hook where a bathrobe hung. The wide plank hardwood floors were spotless, as was the rest of the room. The windows shone, and his slippers were tucked neatly in a corner. Nothing was out of place. She looked at him in confusion. “Where did you put the mud and dirt?”
He laughed. “It’s a big house—I don’t have time to keep it all up. The best I can do is keep my bedroom in order.”
She spotted something in the corner and headed over to it. It was an acoustic guitar. “You play?”
He shook his head. “I used to when I was a kid. My momma taught me.” She touched the guitar. There was no dust on it.
“I’d love to hear you play sometime.”
“I haven’t picked it up in decades.” He took her hand and tugged on it to take her to the other side of the room.
She noticed a door she had missed before, which opened into a large bathroom. The wall of windows continued in here, and now she could see the length of the room was the entire front of the house. She took in the large claw-foot tub and brass-framed mirrors over the sink. The bathroom looked as though it had been transplanted from an old Victorian house.
She returned to the bedroom and stepped out onto the balcony. There were a couple of rocking chairs and a small table, and Meera could just barely make out the outline of the trees, rolling fields and her cottage. She’d left the light on in her bedroom, and she could make out the shape of her bed beyond the drapes.
He stepped behind her, and she turned to meet his eyes. “I may have been known to fall asleep in this chair watching the light from your room.” His breath was right at her ear, and her nerves came to attention. He ran his hands down her arms, smoothing the goose bumps that prickled her skin.
He buried his face in her hair. She stood absolutely still, afraid to move and ruin the wonderful sensation. He gently turned her so she was facing him. He caressed her cheek with his finger.
“I know I’m gonna sound crazy, Meera, but I can’t hide from it anymore. I’m head over heels in love with you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MEERA’S EYES SWAM with tears, and her heart filled to the brim and spilled over. Jake cupped her face and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. He bent down and placed a kiss on her lips. It was a tender kiss, full of love and promise.
She opened her eyes and looked up. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone in my life.”
He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers.
“It makes me very afraid.”
He nodded. “Scares the heck out of me, too.”
“What do you want from me, Jake?”
He lifted her face. “Look at me, Meera.” She raised her eyes, warmth spreading in her chest at the intensity in his gaze. “I love you because your heart is filled with the kind of goodness that can redeem a man’s worst sins. I love your inner strength, your spunk, your stubbornness, the fact that you’re beautiful as all get-out, your red toenails...”
She gave him a small smile. “Sometimes I paint them blue.”
“I love you because of...you.”
She shifted on her feet. “I’m not sure what I can give you, Jake.”
“Meera, I’ve got nothing to give you. You know the whole truth about my situation. I’m not asking for anything. As corny as it sounds, I just want you to be happy.”
Her heart contracted painfully.
“What if my happiness takes me away from you? What if I leave you like your mother and Jolene?”
“Then I’ll spend the rest of my life living off this moment. ’Cause in this moment, Meera, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
Still cupping her face, he bent down and touched his lips to the corners of her mouth. She felt his love, strong and unconditional, deep in her core. Then he kissed her, sweetly and soundly. She tasted salt from her tears.
He held her for a long time. She waited for him to ask her what she intended to do, but he never did. He just held her, and she enjoyed his warmth, the beating of his heart, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
At some point, he lowered himself onto the rocking chair and pulled her with him. She curled up in his lap. This was what she had craved her whole life, she realized, the comfort of being accepted, of not having promises she needed to fulfill.
“Oh, now, this is heaven,” he murmured.
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Mmm...”
“Maybe it’s a good thing the cattle got sick. Maybe I should sell the ranch so we can go to Tahiti and just...be.”
Meera lifted her head. “I’m not asking for anything, Jake.”
“I know, but I want to give you the world.”
“Would you be happy doing anything other than ranching?”
She felt him slump. “I don’t know how to do anything other than ranching. The hands are my family. I’m responsible for them. I can’t just abandon them, no matter how much I’d like to.”
“There’s nothing else you would consider?” She kept her voice soft and even.
He stiffened. “This is home, Meera. Always has been, always will be.”
“And my home is where my parents are.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE NURSING HOME his father lived in was an hour’s drive from Hell’s Bells. It was a large house with beautifully landscaped grounds in a suburban community.
“This is rather lovely,” Meera observed. “I read that American nursing homes are usually quite shabby.”
Jake nodded. “They are. This costs a pretty penny, which is why the ranch is in such dire financial straits. I want the best for my dad if I can’t keep him at home.”
Meera touched his arm. “My mother says Americans save for their own retirement, while Indian parents consider children their retirement.”
“My father’s always been there for me, Meera. I’ll take care of him as long as he’s alive. I just wish I could do better for him.”
He caught her staring at him, a bewildered look on her face. “You obviously care about your father, so why is it so easy to cut your mother off?”
This again! How can I make her understand?
“Meera, my father has earned my love and trust by taking care of me all these years. My mother abandoned me.”
“So you’re saying you owe your dad.”
“I’m saying I love him. We’ve built a relationship over the years.”
“Just as I have with my parents. They’ve taken care of me, given me my life. So just like you’re taking care of your father, I need to be there for my parents.”
“Providing for your parents, respecting them and taking care of them is very different from giving up your happiness—your entire life—for them.”
The thin line of her lips told him he had gone too far.
“Isn’t that what you’ve done by taking over the ranch?”
Luckily, they had arrived at the front desk, and the task of signing in gave him an excuse not to answer.
“He’s having a good day,” the nurse said as she led them into the common room.
“I’d recognize him anywhere!” Meera exclaimed as they approached his dad.
Jake knew his father looked like an older version of him, with gray hair and the same green eyes. His face broke into a familiar, wide grin.
“Ah, there’s m’ boy.”
Jake bent down to hug him and kissed his cheek. The older man eyed Meera. “Who’d you bring me? That ain’t Jolene.”
Jake smiled. “It sure isn’t, Dad. This is Meera.”
“It’s a pleas
ure to meet you, Mr. Taylor.”
“Oh, my father was Mr. Taylor. Call me Ted or call me Daddy, baby girl.”
Meera smiled. Jake’s heart twisted as his father returned Meera’s smile with another wide grin. His dad only brought out that big smile when he liked someone. He was the type of man who made snap decisions about someone, and he didn’t like very many people. He hated Jolene.
Jake asked his father how he was feeling and went through his mental list of his dad’s friends, remembering to ask about the nurse he particularly liked. His father spoke animatedly about recent events at the nursing home.
“Dad, I need to talk to you about something.”
His father smiled. “You’ve got my blessing, boy!”
Jake frowned. “What’re you talking about?”
“You’re gonna marry this beautiful girl, aren’t ya? Well, go on, just be sure to come get me so I can take a picture with that newfangled phone you gave me.”
Jake laughed. “That’s not what I’m talkin’ about, Dad.”
“Well, why the heck not! You ain’t getting younger, and you ain’t gonna find anyone prettier than her.” He leaned in and winked. “And I like her accent.”
Meera put her hand on her mouth, failing to suppress a giggle. “Very true.”
Jake mouthed, “You’re not helping.”
She stood up, still smiling. “Will you excuse me? I’ll get us coffee.”
After Meera left, Jake explained what had happened at the ranch. He searched his father’s eyes; they were alert today, sharper than they had been in months. He nodded at the right times and asked intelligent questions. Jake felt a sense of relief. It really was a good day when he could talk to his father and pick his brain about what to do. When he finished telling him what happened, he looked down.
“I’m sorry, Dad. You were right about me not being ready to take over the ranch. I shouldn’t have insisted on taking the reins when I did, and now I’ve made a mess of things.”
“Look up, boy!”
Jake’s head snapped up.
“I’m gonna tell you a story.” Jake tried to keep his face neutral. His father was slipping again.
“When you was a little boy, I’d take you with me into town. When the ice cream truck came, that was your treat for hanging ’round all day. But you always got vanilla—that’s what you wanted every time. And one day I said, ‘Boy, you gonna get the same thing you always do? You afraid to go with something new?” His father patted his hand. “I was teasing, but you...you marched up to that truck, you read the flavors of the day and you turned around and said you wanted the mint chocolate chip. I said you weren’t gonna like it—a boy doesn’t go from vanilla to mint chocolate chip. But you was as stubborn as your old man. You insisted I buy it for you, so I did.”
Jake vaguely remembered that day. His father smiled widely. “And then you took a bite, and by golly, the look on your face! You hated it.”
His father’s eyes shimmered, and Jake searched for the glaze but it wasn’t there. His dad was still with him. He saw Meera out of the corner of his eye. She kept her distance, but he could tell she was listening.
“So I said, ‘I’ll eat that. You go on and get your vanilla.’ But you just shook your head and kept on eating. And you kept at it till you finished that cone. I thought you was gonna be sick by the time you was done. You is one stubborn boy.”
Jake gave him a small smile. “Vanilla’s still my favorite flavor.”
“Vanilla is what you know.” His father leaned in. “You listen and listen good—I didn’t want to give you the ranch ’cause I didn’t want you saddled with it. It ruined my life, working day in and day out. I lost your momma, and I almost lost you. I didn’t want you to have the same sorry life I did on that land. You wanna keep the ranch, you keep it, but if you wanna take your girl and run away, I’ll be right there cheerin’ you on.”
“Dad!”
“Don’t you make the same mistakes I did, boy. You live your life the way you want. Don’t you keep eating mint chocolate chip just to prove something to this old fart. And whatever you do, if you love that girl, don’t you let her go.”
Jake swallowed hard.
His father turned and looked out the window. “I shouldn’t have let your momma leave. I shoulda sold that ranch a long time ago.”
Jake thought about the pictures on his mother’s mantel. “I don’t think you could have done anything to keep her, Dad. She didn’t want us.”
“Maybe she’ll come back one day. If I keep the ranch, she’ll know where to find me.”
“Dad?”
Jake waved a hand in front of his father’s face, but he didn’t blink. He patted his hand, but his father was gone.
Meera set down three steaming cups of coffee. Jake took a sip, burning his tongue. He took another swig. He thought about his mother and how she’d had a different life while his father pined away for her, how Ted Taylor had stubbornly held on to the ranch when what he really wanted was his wife.
They sat in silence drinking coffee.
“Time to go?” Meera asked softly.
He nodded.
“Are you okay?” she said when they reached the car.
Jake nodded. “He told me to sell the ranch and go live my life.”
He held the door open for Meera. As usual, she rewarded him with a peck on the cheek before she slid into her seat. He walked over to the driver’s side.
He placed his head on the steering wheel, the pounding in his ears drowning out rational thought. “He was having a good day. He meant what he said.”
He turned toward her, taking in her big brown eyes. Every time he looked at Meera, he fell in love with her all over again. Be careful, Jake. Don’t push her. He didn’t want to do what every other person in her life had done, make his love conditional.
“What’re you thinking?” Her voice was soft.
“What would you do if you couldn’t be a doctor?”
She shrugged. “I would work on my research.”
“And what if you couldn’t be a researcher?”
“I would find something else to do... What’s this about, Jake?”
“You have options. If you can’t be a doctor, you can be something else. You aren’t worried about finding another profession.”
“What’re you trying to say?”
“I don’t have options.” He rubbed his neck. He should’ve told Meera earlier. It hadn’t been an issue with Jolene because she already knew. The whole town did. He had never been ashamed of it, but last night with Meera was a new experience. She was enthralled with how good he was with numbers, never once asking him to double-check his math or confirming that the numbers he was giving her were true. She saw him as an intellectual equal. But she needed to know. “I’m dyslexic.”
He waited for the sounds of sympathy he was used to hearing from every person he had ever told. Meera just looked at him, encouraging him to say more.
“School was hard for me when I was a boy—it’s partly why my mom left. The simplest assignments took me hours, and I got so frustrated that I acted out. I somehow managed to make it to college, and one of my professors figured out I was great with numbers so I went down the accounting path. But I couldn’t cut it. I had to drop out.”
Meera took his hand in hers. “There are many brilliant people with dyslexia, and these days, there are special educational programs. You are good with numbers—I’ve seen it. You have an amazing mind.”
“Yeah, but it only works for so long. I tried getting a job after college... It didn’t pan out. The ranch, it’s the only thing I’ve been successful at. It works for me. I can’t do a desk job. I need physical labor to give my brain a break, to process things.”
“Jake...”
“I’m not being a chauvinistic pig w
hen I say it’s not the same whether you move here or I move to London. I don’t have the choices you do, Meera.”
She dropped her gaze to the dashboard. Minutes passed. When she looked up, her expression was strained. Pain ripped through his body.
He bit his tongue, waiting for the words he knew were coming.
“Jake, you’re an amazing man...and the town...it’s like nothing I’ve seen before. This sense of community, of kinship with one’s neighbors, I don’t know many places on earth where that exists.”
“They do have their moments.”
“And I love the ranch. It feels like a home. I love your staff—Kelly and Billy John, I get the feeling they would do anything for you.” She took her hand back and stared out the window. “For as long as I remember, I’ve wanted to be a doctor, and I’m invested in my research. But I’m learning that what I love is taking care of people, and I’ve never had the kind of relationship with my patients in London that I do here. It’s making me question what kind of doctor I want to be.”
She turned her big brown eyes back to him, and they were full of tears, her face pleading. Jake went cold. “I’ve been questioning a lot of things lately, but the two things I don’t question are my beliefs and the fact that I can’t break my parents’ hearts. I can’t see myself making a living killing cows. I can’t get past that, Jake.”
“You wouldn’t have to be part of the operation.”
“How would it work with us on a daily basis? Even if I take over Dr. Harper’s practice, you’ll sit at the dinner table with a bloody steak on your plate. Am I supposed to sit by eating grilled cheese all my life? And do I watch you raise new calves that will die at your hands? I know you don’t understand, but I can’t live like that.”
Jake shut his mouth. How was he supposed to respond? She was right; he couldn’t give her what she wanted.
“And then there’s my parents. My father has dreamed of me taking over his medical center in London. It’s not blind obedience, Jake—it’s love. It’s my way of loving them. Just like your way of loving your father is to take care of the ranch—” she nodded toward the nursing home “—and to give him the best.”
First Comes Marriage Page 16