by Karen Kirst
She hadn’t shoved him away, though, had she? Surely Becca wouldn’t have responded the way she had if she didn’t feel something for him. Something good. Something pure.
And what if she did? What would that change? I don’t deserve her. I never will.
By the time his cabin in the woods came into view, his heart was as frozen as his toes and fingers. Uncertain if he possessed the fortitude to interact with another human being, he considered bunking down in the barn loft. But it was nearing midnight and the windows were dark. She would be asleep in her room. The promise of a warm fire and thick quilt beckoned.
He hadn’t counted on finding her on the couch, tucked inside his quilt, fast asleep with her cheek nestled into his pillow. Weak light from the dwindling fire flickered across her face, shimmered in her thick brown hair. Although it hardly seemed possible, she was even more beautiful now than when they were teens. Part of that was due to her newfound spunk—he liked that there was spice beneath the sweet facade. Made life interesting. Difficult, too. Living here with Becca was showing him what life could be like if he let someone else close, was making his decision to live a solitary life less and less appealing.
Shedding himself of his guns and duster, he sank onto the coffee table and placed his hat beside him. He watched her until exhaustion made him light-headed. Too cold to move, he leaned forward and rested his head on the cushion. Just for a minute, he told himself.
Minutes—or was it hours?—had passed when her soft cry stirred him to wakefulness. Her fingers combed lightly through his hair.
“You’re home,” she exclaimed, joy and relief evident in her tone. Quilts tumbled to the floor, and she was there beside him on the coffee table, hugging him so tight he could hardly catch a breath. “Are you okay?”
The fact that his stiff muscles ached with lingering cold, and he needed a bath and a shave, and his leg hurt, hardly registered after a greeting such as this. “I take it you’re happy to see me?” He managed a halfhearted smile.
Becca cupped his unshaven cheek. “You’ve no idea how worried I’ve been. H-how worried we’ve all been,” she amended, letting her hand fall to her lap. “Did you find—”
“No.”
Frowning, she pulled the lapels of her housecoat tight at the throat. “You’re freezing. Sit on the couch.” She tugged on his arm, and he had no choice but to do her bidding. She proceeded to wrap him in blankets from his neck to his feet. When she encountered his dirt-flecked boots, she tugged them off despite his protests and encased his stocking feet in the material.
“Stay there.”
As if he could move after she’d trussed him up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He sat still and silent as she took logs from the crate and added them to the fire. Arrayed in a cloud of snowy white, her hair streaming past her shoulders, Becca’s loveliness made him ache for what he couldn’t have. Crossing the wooden floor, she appeared to glide effortlessly, spine straight and head held high.
She lit the stove. “Hot tea will help. Are you hungry? I made sourdough bread this morning. Or I can reheat the beef stew your ma sent home with me. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve been eating my meals with them.”
He and Timmons had barely stopped to eat, making due with jerky and sandwiches. “I can wait until morning to eat.”
Caleb was glad she hadn’t taken her meals alone and that his family was around to keep her company. The heat from the fire and Becca’s cocoon was loosening his limbs. His lids were growing heavy. He settled deeper into the cushions and rested his head against the curved cushion edge.
Almost asleep when she appeared before him with a cup and saucer, it took him a minute to make sense of what he was seeing. Something was missing.
“Did you lose your locket?”
Eyes widening, she pressed slender fingers to her neck. “No.”
“Where is it, then? I haven’t seen you without it since I landed on your doorstep.”
When she hesitated, her eyelashes sweeping down to hide her eyes, he said, “You didn’t sell it to Clawson’s, did you? Because I’ll provide whatever funds you need. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that,” he reiterated, uncertain why he wasn’t rejoicing at its absence. All he knew was that the locket mattered to her.
“I’ve decided not to wear it anymore.”
Caleb floundered for a response. What did that mean? “Why not?”
“Is there anything more that you need?” He could tell by her expression that she wasn’t about to satisfy his curiosity. “Because if not, I think I’ll go ahead and retire.”
“No, nothing.” He wasn’t going to push her on this. Not now. “Sweet dreams, Becca.”
She turned back when she reached the bedroom door. “I’m glad you’re home safe, Caleb.”
* * *
“Mmm.” Across the table, Caleb chewed with his eyes closed. “Don’t tell Ma, but your biscuits and gravy are the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Rebecca smiled and sipped her coffee. When she’d woken before him for a change, she’d eagerly set about fixing him a breakfast fit for a king. His delighted smile as he’d spied the spread had been reward enough, but compliments were nice, too.
His raven hair was mussed, his jaw covered in dark scruff, and he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Not that it mattered. Her husband could be wearing tattered rags and still have a devastating effect on her.
Three days of not knowing whether he lived or died had rendered her a tad desperate to see his face. Certainly her welcome the night before had been unrestrained. She blamed it on the fogginess of sleep. So why am I considering going over there and throwing my arms around his neck and refusing to let go until the raging fear for his safety recedes?
Above the rim of his coffee mug, he noticed her staring. He lowered it to the table. “What are you thinking, Rebecca?”
Rebecca. What must he have seen in her eyes to call her that?
Distract him. Reaching into her apron pocket, she withdrew a slender box and slid it across the table.
“What’s this?” He pushed his plate to the side.
“A late Christmas present.”
His brow furrowed. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know. I wanted to.”
He lifted the lid. Went still. “A harmonica?”
“I noticed your other one was badly dented,” she rushed to add. “When I was with your parents at Clawson’s, I saw this one and thought you might like it. However, Emmett assured me that you could exchange it for something else if you wish.”
Good thing he wouldn’t recognize her grandmother’s brooch she’d traded in. She’d considered trading in the locket, but while she no longer wished to wear it, she didn’t want her first gift for Caleb to be tied to Adam in any way.
He didn’t say anything as he examined it, shiny metal flashing as he turned it this way and that.
“Please don’t feel obligated to keep it. I won’t be upset if you’d rather have a different gift. It’s just that you have everything you need, and I wanted to give you something you would enjoy.”
“It’s perfect, Becca.” His intent gaze slid to hers and, with a crooked smile, he found her hand on the tabletop and threaded his fingers through hers. “I’ll treasure it.”
A giddy sort of relief expanding through her midsection, she returned the pressure of his fingers, reveling in the slide of his rougher skin against hers. She licked her dry lips, and his gaze caught the unconscious action. Awareness turned his eyes a rich golden hue, like those of a lion. Memories of their recent kiss thickened the air. His hold tightened, and he eased over his plate. She mimicked his movement, uncaring how wrong it was to submit to this magnetic pull between them.
Someone pounded on the door. “Caleb? Rebecca? You in there?”
They both
jumped.
“That sounds like Pa.” Disappointment flashed as he nudged his chair out of the way and strode to the door.
Wearing an ear-to-ear smile, Sam stepped over the threshold. “Congratulate me. I’m officially a grandpa,” he told his youngest son. “And you’re an uncle.”
Caleb looked dumbfounded. “What?”
Rebecca threw her napkin on the table and came to stand beside him. “Kate had her baby?”
“Yep. Went into labor last night.” Behind his spectacles, tears of pride gleamed. “Victoria Marie O’Malley was born at five twenty-four this morning.”
“A girl.” Rebecca squeezed Caleb’s arm, joy for the special couple making her almost giddy.
“How’s Kate?” he demanded, looking more upset than pleased. “And the baby?”
“They’re both fine. Come over and meet her. Not sure if you’ll get to hold her, though. Depends if you can pry her out of her pa’s arms.” He chuckled, clearly thrilled to pieces at the arrival of his first granddaughter.
Some of Caleb’s tension ebbed. He fingered the scruff on his chin. “I need to bathe and shave first.”
“Nah—” Sam waved him off “—as long as your hands are scrubbed clean, I say don’t worry about it.”
Impatient to see the baby, Rebecca grabbed her coat and scarf. “Come on. I’m dying to see who she looks like.”
“Doesn’t have much hair,” Sam said, “much like her pa when he was a babe.”
“What about Caleb? Was he bald, too?” she couldn’t resist asking. He tossed her a startled look.
Sam grinned. “Unlike his brothers, Caleb was born with a shock of black hair. Good-lookin’ kid. Everyone who saw him said so.”
“I’m not surprised,” she murmured, “considering the handsome man he’s grown into.”
Caleb’s throat worked and the tips of his ears went red. “Okay, enough of that.” Turning his back on them, he pulled on his duster and worked quickly to do up the buttons. Sam winked at her.
* * *
A hushed silence cloaked the interior of Josh and Kate’s cabin. They waited in the living room while Sam went upstairs to alert the new parents of their arrival. Beside her, Caleb shifted nervously.
“You’re not frightened of a little baby, are you?” she teased.
He frowned, grooves on either side of his mouth appearing. “Don’t have much experience with them.”
“You’ll be a wonderful uncle, I’m sure of it.”
“I doubt she’ll see that much of me.” He looked at her askance. “Or have you forgotten our agreement?”
The joy leaked out of the moment. Pain replaced it. As Josh descended the stairs with a tiny bundle in his arms, Rebecca watched the emotions skittering across Caleb’s face. Brotherly pride edged with caution. Regret entwined with longing. And when the new father gingerly placed the baby in his brother’s arms, she thought her heart would rend in two. The way he gazed at his niece...
Caleb wants to be a father as much as I want to be a mother. It was there on his face for anyone to see.
“She’s very quiet. And still. Too still.” He shot Josh a look that bordered on panic. “Is she supposed to be this still?”
Standing at the end of the couch, Josh peered down at his sleeping daughter and smiled, one that encompassed pride and love and wonder. “I’m told this is normal behavior for a newborn.”
“How’s Kate?” Rebecca asked, easing down beside her husband.
“She’s resting. Ma is up there with her.”
“You look strange,” Caleb said darkly. “What aren’t you saying? Was she in danger?”
Josh grimaced. Rebecca belatedly noticed his finger-tousled hair and wrinkled shirt, the shadows beneath his eyes. “I won’t lie. It was...difficult to see her in that much pain. By God’s grace, she made it through. I’m beyond amazed at her strength.” His blue gaze fastened onto Caleb’s. “Perhaps one day you’ll understand what I mean.”
Rebecca’s cheeks burned. As the years passed, people would wonder why she and Caleb didn’t have children. They wouldn’t broach the subject, of course, but they’d assume there were physical problems. They’d never know the real reason. Regret coated her mouth.
Caleb cleared his throat. “Would you like to hold her, Becca?”
Unable to speak, she merely nodded and avoided his piercing scrutiny as he passed the baby to her. Victoria was perfect. Small and pink and weightless as a cloud. Lightly skimming the fine blond hair, Rebecca fought back tears. I will not feel sorry for myself. I will rejoice with all of my being for Josh and Kate’s blessing.
When the infant stirred, little fingers opening and closing, Rebecca handed her to her father. “She’s beautiful, Josh. Please tell Kate I’m thrilled for you both.”
He smiled, but his gaze was searching. “I will.”
“I’d better go and check on Amy.” Rushing to escape, she was midway through the orchard when Caleb caught up to her.
“Becca, wait.”
“I’m in a hurry.” She kept walking, ducking beneath particularly low branches, disturbing birds. “I want to visit with Amy before I start in on the laundry.”
His hand clamped down on her elbow, and he hauled her around to face him. He looked like the mountain man she’d rescued that day in the snow, wild and untamed and dangerous. Definitely dangerous. The gray, overcast skies above rendered his collar-length hair a richer black, his eyes a more intense brown. Behind him, the naked branches of the apple trees marched along the field of pale green grass. The orchard would be breathtaking in the spring. She wished she could paint it, but by then he’d be gone and she’d be at her place in the cove.
“We need to talk.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“No, it can’t.” He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “We never talked about the fact that you want children.”
“We weren’t exactly given the opportunity to discuss it, were we?” She clenched her fists, feeling as if she was dying inside. “Besides, I saw how you looked at that baby. You want children, too.”
He looked grim. “It didn’t cross my mind until I married you.”
She stumbled back, grief slamming into her. How had things gotten so mixed up? How had she wound up here, married to Caleb and wishing for a real marriage with him?
“Why are you telling me this?” she scraped out.
He stood stiff and unmoving, fists clenched at his sides. “If we were able to have a child, you could raise him or her with the help of my family. My father and brothers would provide the proper male influences. You wouldn’t lack for help. You could move into my cabin permanently.”
Rebecca stared, heart thudding painfully against her rib cage. “You would do that?”
A breeze whipped his hair in his eyes, but he didn’t bother to brush it aside. “For you. Because you would be an amazing mother. Because you didn’t ask for this marriage, and I can’t deny you a child of your own.”
“And what about you? You would be content to only see him or her a couple times a year?”
Misery lined his features. “I’m not fit to be a father. You know that.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” she snapped, anger bubbling up inside. “I think it’s unreasonable and even selfish of you to make such an offer. You haven’t considered what your absence would do to a child, have you?” Or to me, she thought miserably.
“I’m merely trying to find a way to make you happy,” he growled, ramming unsteady hands through his hair. “You deserved to marry the man of your dreams, to build a family with him.”
“You keep saying I deserve to be happy and you don’t. What makes me better than you? I make mistakes. I have faults. We all do. God alone is perfect. It’s because of His compassion that He doesn’t give us what
we truly deserve. He chooses to bless us, to extend mercy and grace, because He loves us. So stop making yourself out to be the villain, because you’re no worse than me or your brothers or anyone else in this town.”
Rebecca marched off, unwilling to stick around for his response. And before she blurted a truth so shocking he’d never believe her—that he was shaping up to be the man of her dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The first half of January slipped past in a succession of dreary days made more miserable by the wintry standoff between her and Caleb. Since the day she’d left him standing in the orchard, he’d done his best to avoid her. There were no more leisurely breakfasts. By the time she awoke each morning, he was already in the barn milking the cows. Rebecca wasn’t sure what he did for lunch, but she suspected he either took a sandwich or stopped in at the main house. Supper was a strained affair. Their stilted conversations—if they spoke at all—revolved around the weather and farm workings.
There was absolutely no mention of the baby. Rebecca had gone to visit Kate and Victoria every other day, careful not to stay long and tire out the new mother. When she’d learned Caleb hadn’t been back since the baby’s birth, she’d known immediately what he was doing. Guarding his heart. Why get attached when he wasn’t going to be around?
There’d been no more sightings of Samantha and her gang. Shane hadn’t discovered any links between them and the locals, which meant Rebecca hadn’t been off O’Malley land except for Sunday church services. Amy had to be escorted to and from school. She didn’t complain, however, as she was perfectly content living with Sam and Mary. Rebecca suspected that for her sister, the older couple helped fill the gaping hole left by their parents.
Removing a heavy cast-iron skillet of corn bread from the stove, she plunked it on the cooktop and laid the towel aside. Boots thudded on the porch seconds before the door swung open and Caleb’s imposing presence filled the space. What was he doing here in the middle of the day?