Choices of the Heart

by Daniels, Julia

  “Honestly?” he challenged. Why he pushed the issue, he could not say. He wanted to keep her near to him, couldn’t get enough of her.

  She looked back to him, with tears in her eyes. “I told you already.” Her voice was raspy. “I did not leave you. I left this life, the abuse, the gossips. I know many girls leave the countryside and farms to find a husband. I didn’t. I went to find me.”

  Her eyes were begging him to kiss her. He could read them as plain as day. He itched to rub away the tears now sliding down her cheeks, but he couldn’t.

  He heard boots scraping across gravel behind them. Chloe hastily brushed at the tears on her face, and Reese turned away from her to watch his parents come toward the vehicle.

  “Well, then,” his father boomed. “I guess we best be gettin’ on home. I’ve got some livestock to feed. Bobby’s probably thinking he got left behind again.”

  Reese opened the back door, and Chloe climbed in. He shut it after she was situated and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “How about we come by about noon tomorrow, son?” his mother asked. “I’ll bring some of the leftovers, and we can open the envelopes with the papers Ronnie and Daisy left. Together.”

  “All right. The house won’t be clean, though.” His chest tightened at the thought of Chloe in his home again. The home he’d bought to start his life with her.

  “I’m sure it will be fine, dear.” His mother kissed his cheek and climbed through the open door, scooting next to his father. Reese shut the door behind her.

  “We’ll see you then.” Reese waved goodbye as the car pulled away. He watched the back of Chloe’s black hat-covered head, wondering if she would turn around and look back at him.

  She didn’t.

  ~*~

  Bobby curled closer to Chloe, sleeping like only a young boy with no worries could. He would never know what a loving friend Daisy had been. He would never know what a smart man he’d had for a father. But he would know the love of a grandmother and grandfather.

  Tomorrow would be it—the final appearance she’d have to put in. She’d be able to leave the day after for Lincoln and put Broken Bow behind her.

  Eventually, anyway.

  She moved slightly, settling Bobby a few inches farther away. It was still warm in the room, despite the nice breeze from the windows. She felt restless from the heat but also because of the turbulent emotions warring inside her.

  She stood quietly, so as not to unsettle the boy. At the window, she pulled the lace curtains aside and let the moonlight sweep into the room. She looked down at the barnyard and seemed to see shadows darting across the lawn.

  Just memories, she realized. Times spent running around without cares and worries. Daisy with her snarled pigtails and Ronnie with his shirtsleeves rolled up as far as they could go. Chloe wouldn’t let herself blink, couldn’t clear her vision for fear she would lose sight of the scene. The images floated in front of her eyes, just as if it was happening that very instant.

  Finally she turned away, realizing tears were streaming down her face. She took a deep breath and wiped the wetness from her cheeks, sniffing away even more tears that threatened to spill out.

  She had to get out of the house. The walls were closing in all around her. She dressed quickly and in the brightest dress she’d brought with her. No more black and grey. Daisy hated dark colors, and so did Chloe.

  The Lloyds were sleeping, or at least had all the lights shut off. Filled with nervous restlessness, she needed to be able to move around without being watched.

  Out the back door she went and found herself wandering into the horse barn. The moon was bright, and the sky was clear, and her eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light. There was a special horse that always let her climb up on his back and ride. A gentle old loner boy that loved to eat oats and hated to be around the other, younger horses.

  Chloe grabbed a handful of sugar cubes then proceeded down the row of stalls. She found Freddy right away. It would be hard to miss his coloring, black and white, just like the Holstein cows grazing in a field not far away. She talked softly to him, holding out a handful of hay she’d picked up along the way. He clamped on to it and was soon butting her hand for more. Did he remember she always carried sugar for him?

  Opening her other hand, she produced four large lumps of the sweet cubes, laughing as the horse inhaled them. Some things, she realized, didn’t have to change. Continuing to talk softly to him, she rubbed his flanks. Then, without a second thought, she hiked up her skirts and catapulted herself onto his bare back.

  Freddy sidestepped, adjusting to her weight, probably not having had anyone ride him for some time. She continued her praise and kicked him to get him moving. He was slow, at first, but picked up speed, and soon, they were headed through the green grass toward the east of the house and the pasture that connected Reese’s home to his parents’ place.

  She rode there because she knew he was the only person who could make her feel better. He was the only other person in Broken Bow experiencing the loss of a sibling, the loss of what the future could have brought them. She sat on the horse at Reese’s back door, wondering what he would do if she went inside again. Would his conscience force him to throw her out again?

  No lights were on, and the house and surrounding buildings stood silent.

  She debated her options, stewed on the subject, knowing it would be crazy to go in there, knew that no matter what happened it wouldn’t be good. He had Isabelle, and she had cold, empty, lonely nights in Lincoln. She turned the horse back toward the Lloyds’ and kicked Freddy to urge him forward. With her recent bad luck, the horse would probably pass out from the exertion.

  ~*~

  “I’ve decided I’m heading to Chicago next week.”

  Chloe looked up from her plate at Reese’s sudden announcement. All movement stopped at the table. Bobby even quit babbling about the toy wooden train Reese had given him.

  “Why would you want to be doin’ that?” Mr. Lloyd asked before taking a sip of milk.

  “I gotta find out the truth.”

  Chloe watched Reese’s cheeks flush. Was he angry or embarrassed that his father was questioning his motives?

  The five of them—Chloe, Reese, his parents and Bobby—were seated at the large kitchen table in Reese’s old farmhouse, eating leftovers from the funeral dinner of the day before. It was another day of solemn proceedings but the final heart wrenching activity Chloe would participate in before she could be on her way.

  Every time she thought of leaving, her stomach clenched. Every time Bobby gave her a wet kiss and called her “Cwowe” her heart melted, and she wanted to watch the little man grow. But she couldn’t. Reese had Isabelle. She had nursing. She’d missed her chance at a happily ever after and had to simply accept that. She’d thrown herself at Reese, and he’d rejected her—and rightly so. He was an honorable man.

  “Well, we’re hoping those papers yonder”—his father pointed to the leather bag sitting on the floor next to the stove—“will guide us in the right direction.”

  “And if they don’t?” Reese pressed. “Then what?”

  “I don’t know, son.” Mr. Lloyd stood. “This is hard on your mother and me too, ya know. We lost our boy.” He walked to the icebox and refilled his milk.

  It was hard on them. Chloe had witnessed their pain, had heard the hideous, thick silence that reverberated off the walls.

  “I’m sorry.” Reese apologized. He wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I just want to make sure there were no dirty dealings involved.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there were, Reese.” His father joined them again at the table. “How could there not have been? There were probably a lot of things goin’ on that we don’t wanna know nothin’ about. But for their boy’s sake”—Mr. Lloyd nodded toward Bobby—“we gotta find out somethin’.”

  “Which is why I’m headed to Chicago,” Reese stated.

  “Mr. Lloyd, do you think they could have been bootle
gging?” Chloe asked, wondering if she was overstepping her bounds.

  “That again!” In one angry swoop, Reese tossed his napkin on his plate, rolled his eyes at Chloe, and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

  “I reckon they coulda been, Reese. Chloe ain’t so far off.” Mr. Lloyd nodded. “It crossed my mind a time or two. Couldn’t imagine why the boy never wrote us. Why he went and turned his back on the family. He might have involved himself with the wrong group of people. And then mighta done something to anger somebody and then well, they killed him.”

  “Where’d you get such notions, Randy?” Mrs. Lloyd closed her slack jaw just enough to question her husband.

  “I read a newspaper article in the World Herald some months ago about the bootlegging here in Nebraska. The writer said how a lot of it was gettin’ sent in motorcars up to the Great Lakes. Chicago, Milwaukee, even St. Louis. There are organizations there, in an underground sort of way, which disperse the hooch.”

  “And you think our Ronnie got involved with them?” Mrs. Lloyd looked pale, having much the same reaction as Reese had when Chloe broached the topic the day before.

  “It’s possible. Remember them war buddies who came out here to visit? I sure as hell—pardon me, Chloe,” Mr. Lloyd excused his language, “didn’t trust none of them as far as I could throw them.”

  “They were just different,” Reese argued. “Streetwise. They’d just returned from the war.”

  “Now, Reese, you mighta been young, but you ain’t stupid. Them Chicago boys were no good.” Mr. Lloyd went back to eating.

  Chloe watched anger pass across Reese’s face. She was not at all surprised when he shoved his chair back and stalked out the door. He was never good at confrontations; he’d get tongue-tied and red in the face. Flustered and frustrated. They never argued, he and Chloe, but she’d seen it happen enough with his father and brother.

  Bobby crawled off his chair and followed Reese out the screen door.

  Chloe was torn. She wanted to follow Reese outside but wondered if that was appropriate anymore. Could she offer him comfort? Would he even want her comfort?

  “Excuse me.” She stood and placed her napkin next to her plate. She left the table, passed Reese’s dirty clothes piled in the mudroom and then exited through the back door.

  She found him right away, leaning against the porch railing, smoking yet another cigarette. “I can’t imagine those things are very good for you.”

  He glared at her then looked away and took another drag.

  “Hot out here.” She moved closer to him and sat on a wooden rocker where she could watch Bobby chase the chickens in the barnyard. “I like what you’ve done to change the place.”

  “It’s slow going.”

  Reese was so handsome, brawny, muscular and strong. His warm brown eyes did something to make her heart flip-flop in her chest. When a lock of his curly dark hair slid across his forehead, Chloe wanted to push it away. She longed to touch Reese…in any way. Her fingers itched to feel his naked skin again. He was her drug of choice. It was rather obvious she felt the same as she had when she left.

  Desperately in love.

  “Doing all the work myself. The porch I put on last summer. Had to replace some of the siding. I just tarred and shingled the roof in May.” He smiled. “Little by little.”

  “The house is pretty old, right? Didn’t your granddad build it before he married your grandma?” The occasional farmhand had lived in it, but until about four years earlier, it had been empty for a long time. Reese had all kinds of ideas back then, ways to fix it up, to make it special.

  “Yep. ’Bout fifty years ago. Could use a coat of paint, too, I reckon.” He shrugged. “Maybe after harvest this fall. No time to get started now.”

  She met his eyes. They pierced her heart. The heat of the sun had nothing to do with the warmth flooding through her body. His eyes were causing the reaction. She knew what he could do to her body with his hands, but his eyes—they spoke volumes without saying a word.

  Chloe stood up, as if hypnotized by his stare, and walked the short distance to where he sat on the low rail of the porch. He held out his hand to her, although the look on his face seemed less than welcoming, almost questioning of her motives. She took his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers.

  Dare she lean forward and fulfill her urge to kiss him?

  He pulled her into his arms and her resolve caved in. The temptation was too great. She leaned in to him on that hot, sticky July day and took another bite of the forbidden apple. She kissed him, gave in to the need to feel him, to taste him. One more time…even if it was the last time.

  His tongue coaxed her mouth open. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and his hands found her hips, drawing her even closer. How could something so wrong feel so right?

  “Come back in, would you…? Oh, my.” Dottie’s voice carried through the screen door, breaking them apart.

  The rapid tap of Dottie’s shoes retreating farther into the house made Chloe blush. She pulled away, feeling flushed but not ashamed.

  “I’m sorry, Chloe.” Reese ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have.” But he was only human, and she was definitely tempting him.

  “Don’t be sorry, Reese. Not for this. Never for this.” She released his hand but he pulled her back.

  “Why were you here last night?” he whispered.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “On ol’ Freddy. I saw you.” He tipped her chin up so her eyes would meet his. “I don’t think it was my imagination anyway.”

  “I was here,” she admitted.

  He pulled her into him and kissed her again. “Why didn’t you come in?”

  “Because you said no last time, and I didn’t think you had changed your mind, not after spending time with Isabelle.” She took both of his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze before moving to the edge of the porch to call Bobby. “Come on, Bobby. Let’s go inside.”

  The barefoot little boy came running from the barnyard up onto the porch, laughing the whole way. As Chloe waited for Bobby, Reese lit another cigarette.

  “I’ll meet you inside in a minute,” he told her before walking off the porch into the yard.

  Chloe took Bobby’s hand and led him inside. He was laughing and giggling, talking about the chicken that tried to peck his toes. She walked into the kitchen and the Lloyds ceased their discussion. Were they talking about what Dottie had seen on the porch?

  “I’ve cleaned up the dinner dishes,” Dottie told her, not quite meeting Chloe’s eyes. “We’ll open the papers now if you’re ready.”

  “Sounds like a fine plan, Ma.” Reese came in behind her, holding two small balls of fur.

  “Kitties!” Bobby clapped, ran up to Reese and grabbed on to his leg.

  Reese bent down and swung the boy up into his arms, tickling him. Making the boy giggle and wiggle like a worm in Reese’s strong arms. He put him down and handed him the kittens.

  Had Bobby seen his parents die, Chloe wondered? Did he remember anything about Daisy? About Chicago?

  “Time for a nap, young man. Take the kittens with you.” Mrs. Lloyd met them just inside the kitchen doorway, took the boy from Reese’s arms, threw the small blanket he liked to sleep with over her shoulder, and headed up the stairs to the bedrooms.

  Chloe couldn’t think of the bedrooms. That led to the memory of the kiss on the porch and the other intimacies that they had shared. Memories that had to be left buried deep in the back of her mind. She was here only until the paperwork could be sorted out and the remnants of Ronnie and Daisy’s life laid to rest, just as their young bodies had been the day before.

  Reese grabbed Bobby’s leather satchel and laid it on the kitchen table. Chloe had looked inside just briefly, paged through the few papers that were not in sealed envelopes.

  “I’m curious what’s inside.” Mr. Lloyd nodded toward the bag. “Curious what happened to all their belongings.”

&n
bsp; “That’s why I gotta go to Chicago.” Reese pulled out a chair.

  “Is Mr. Simmons coming by?” Chloe asked. “It might be wise to wait until he arrives.”

  “Don’t trust us, girl?” Mr. Lloyd looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “Mr. Lloyd,” she backtracked, “it’s not that at all—”

  “I’m joking with you, Chloe.” He laughed then, as if to back up his answer. “I agree with you. We need to have a legal person here. Just in case there’s anything odd. S’pose we oughta call Gus, too.”

  “He’s pulling up the drive, as we speak.” Dottie joined them again in the kitchen.

  Chloe’s heart was throbbing, pounding so hard and so suddenly, her head hurt. She stood, agitated. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Oh, dear.” Dottie covered her mouth. “Jed Simmons is coming up the drive, not your father.” She tapped herself on the forehead. “I’m sorry, Chloe.”

  “Oh.” Chloe sighed, relieved. “Thank goodness.” She slumped back into her chair at the kitchen table. “I wasn’t sure how Pa could be here. I think he’s still locked up.”

  “He’s not welcome here,” Reese stated before he walked out the back door. She heard his boots thumping on the porch and in the distance. Less than a minute later, his voice carried through the open kitchen window as he greeted the family’s lawyer.

  “Jed’s a good man,” Mr. Lloyd commented.

  Dottie sat at the table next to her husband. “He is. We may not be needin’ him for anything but good to have him here.”

  Jed and Reese came back in the house, along with a man Chloe didn’t recognize.

  “Miss Brandt, good to see you again. Mrs. Lloyd, Randy.” Jed nodded to each in turn. “I’ve hired myself a partner. This here’s Mitchell Schroeder.”

  “Mitch, to my friends.” The newcomer smiled and held out his hand to Mr. Lloyd and then to Reese. “Glad to meet you.” He turned and smiled a greeting to Chloe and Mrs. Lloyd.

  “How long have you been in Broken Bow?” Mr. Lloyd asked.