She needed to make one thing clear. “I’ve already been over every inch of this house during renovations in preparation for opening the inn. I’d have found whatever you and others were talking about if it had existed.”
“No disrespect, but I doubt it. The man hid things well. People are still searching for some of his lost gold stashes out west. His cryptic maps haven’t helped at all.”
“Perhaps they are still searching because there’s nothing to find. This might be Jesse’s grand joke on the world.”
“I’m not so sure. Gram seemed convinced, and she wasn’t given to pipe dreams.”
He wasn’t helping his case by continuing to talk about this treasure as if it truly existed. “So let me get this straight. You came back here because you think Jesse James buried stolen gold in my house?” Not because you wanted to take care of me after my injury like you claimed.
He nodded. “Not necessarily gold, but…”
Again, she watched his lips move while the thrumming in her ears blocked out his words. At least he was being honest with her now.
So why did she feel even worse? “All this time you were on some crazy hunt for lost gold.”
“Again, I didn’t say it was gold. Neither did Gram.” As if he realized that he’d inadvertently admitted he had come back to search for some kind of treasure, he held out his hand as if to appease her. “Wait! That’s not why I’m here. Hell, I don’t know why I decided to look again while I was down there tonight. Maybe all the talk about Jesse James over dinner last night.” He shrugged. They’d found a book in the library that neither had read before and brought it home to read, sparking a number of discussions about the outlaw.
Why couldn’t he be honest and tell her he simply had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with her rather than concoct this story about hidden treasure? “Did you ever ask yourself why Mrs. Foster didn’t find it herself? She lived in this house for decades.”
Greg sighed. “I don’t know what he left behind, where he left it, or even when, but imagine what a find like this would mean for your business.”
“Why the sudden interest in my business? I thought you didn’t like me exploiting your family for personal gain. If Mrs. Foster’s journals sent you on this wild-goose chase, then you’re no better than I am.”
“As I’ve said repeatedly, I really only spent my first couple of days here actively searching. Tonight was more curiosity about that stone than anything else.” He sighed. “Doesn’t the Old Talbott Tavern capitalize on stories that good ol’ Jesse shot some holes in the walls upstairs one night on a drunken binge?”
Everyone in the county knew the story about the night he’d taken pot shots in the mural room when he thought the birds on the wall were ‘flying’ around, keeping him awake. “No doubt they renovated Jesse’s room and keep it booked solid for Jesse James buffs. You find his treasure, and you won’t have to worry about a thing the rest of your life.”
“I’m not worried about anything now.” Well, except for how to tell Greg to leave. While it broke her heart to give up on what might be her only chance at love, she wouldn’t sell herself short with someone who didn’t put her ahead of everything else. She wanted nothing to do with Greg and his fictitious treasure.
“You seem to forget that I’ve already connected Jesse to my inn with stories of his hiding out there in the 1860s and ’70s. It hasn’t been all that lucrative,” she pointed out. “Maybe if I shot some bullet holes in the walls, I could fabricate a story—but that’s not the way I do business.”
“Tillie, let’s sit down over dinner and talk about this.”
She shook her head. “I want you to leave.” There. I said it. “Tonight. I’m tired.” In my heart. “Feel free to eat supper before you go, but I’m no longer hungry. I’ll take the casserole out of the oven. Then I’m heading up to bed.” Her training in hospitality couldn’t even let her throw him out without taking care of his needs one more time. How pathetic? “Pack your bags while I do that because this discussion is over.”
She didn’t care if he headed back to Minneapolis tonight or to a hotel. She simply didn’t have the energy to keep an eye on his every move. Honestly, she didn’t have the energy to do anything right now. A heavy weight had fallen over her, leaving her rooted to the spot.
He stared at her a long, hard moment. “Can you shoot a gun with accuracy, Tillie?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t serious, Greg.”
“Have you had any training with firearms?”
Apparently, he wouldn’t let this harebrained idea go. Knowing he thought she’d perpetrate a hoax on her guests and that he had such a low opinion of her only hurt more. “Of course I have. I live alone and have a permit to conceal carry.”
He nodded curtly. “Good. I want you to keep a gun with you at all times until the authorities find out who broke in.”
So he didn’t want her to shoot up the walls of her house? How had she jumped to such a wrong conclusion? Because I’m utterly exhausted. Even the notion that an intruder had actually broken in seemed preposterous now, given that nothing had happened since then. Did he expect her to cling to him and beg him to stay? “Why are you trying to scare me?”
“I’m not. I hate the thought of you being here alone if whoever broke in returns when I’m not around.”
Tillie’s nerves became unsettled at the thought, but Greg needed to go. “I’ll keep my revolver with me. You can leave your key on the table in the foyer.”
Without waiting for him to respond, she pivoted and went to the kitchen to do as she’d promised. The meal she’d labored on so lovingly shouldn’t have to suffer from their parting ways. She crossed the dining room and opened the door to her room. She heard footsteps on the hallway stairs and started up the pie stairs, thankful she missed meeting him again in the kitchen.
Well, she’d put herself out there and trusted someone only to find heartache. This inn was her entire world. She could survive without the love, especially that of a dishonorable man. But she refused to make herself vulnerable to yet another man who was more interested in this house than in her. Greg was no better than Mark.
She wouldn’t be a doormat for any man. Confronting him tonight had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done, but she wouldn’t have been able to respect herself if she’d tamped down her feelings.
She might always live with regrets for what could have been, but standing up for herself and sending Greg away before he could hurt her anymore was the right thing for her to do. Her well-being and self-respect took precedence, even if she did have to suffer a broken heart, something she’d tried to guard against her entire life. In the long run, it was in her best interest to stand up for herself. No one else was going to be around to do it.
Tillie had been taking care of herself for the most part since she was a kid, except for when she’d moved in with Mrs. Foster as a teen after her mother died. She usually stayed so busy she didn’t know what to do beyond running this inn. Needing someone else to validate her ability wasn’t even a consideration. She had plenty of guests who fed her need to be wanted and to serve. Perhaps not as rewarding as being loved by Greg might have been—but the trade-off to keep him in her life would be too dear. She wouldn’t sacrifice herself and be walked all over by someone who gave her a false sense of belonging.
At least they hadn’t gone too far in their relationship. She’d be left with few reminders of what she’d risked and lost. Still, her heart would be battered and bruised for a long time.
* * *
Amelia followed Gregory up to the room Derek had slept in where he hastily threw clothing into his suitcase. His pain and disappointment were palpable, making her regret not having a contingency plan for what to do if Tillie broke her grandson’s heart. But Tillie was hurting, too, even if by her own misguided beliefs and not anything Greg had intentionally done.
“Jesse, he’s leaving! What do we do now?”
“Let ’em be, Amelia. They�
��ll have to work this out themselves. If they can’t trust each other, nothin’ we do can change that.”
“But it’s all my fault. How was I to know Gregory would choose that moment to go searching for what’s been right under his nose all along? I need to fix this.”
Jesse patted her hand as they stood in the corner watching Gregory go into the bathroom in Amelia’s old room to retrieve his belongings there. When he came out, the pallor of his face as he stared longingly at the bed where he’d so tenderly taken care of Tillie after she hurt her ankle broke Amelia’s heart. He locked his jaw as if trying not to lose it altogether. Was he remembering her lying there?
Amelia wanted to cry for him, even though he’d brought this on himself. Okay, so she’d used the journals as a means to get him back in that house. She didn’t expect him to become hell-bent on proving history wrong. The boy rarely became passionate about anything. She’d hoped he’d expend his passion on Tillie.
“But what if they never figure it out, Jesse?”
“Then they’ll be miserable for the rest of their lives. Not everyone’s lucky enough to find and claim the one person who is their destiny. For me, it was Zee. For you, Elmer Foster and Joseph Hill. We were two of the lucky ones.”
But she wanted that for Tillie and Gregory, too. “Why didn’t he tell her why it’s so important to him to find the treasure I wrote about—even if he’s so far off base it would be a miracle if he ever figured it out.”
“Pride goeth before the fall. He’s so worried she’ll think he’s ready for the lunatic asylum that he can’t tell her what she means to him.”
Amelia wished spirits could cry because all she’d hoped for was falling apart before her eyes. She hated to give him the satisfaction by admitting it, but Jesse was right. They’d laid the tracks to bring the two young’uns together. If they were too blind—or too stubborn—to make those tracks meet in the middle, then what more could she and Jesse do?
Blast it, no! What was she missing? Amelia wouldn’t give up yet.
“Why do they have to make things so complicated?”
Jesse shrugged, more interested in Gregory’s movements returning to the smaller bedroom and carrying his valise down the stairs than he was in this conversation with her.
Love was the only thing that mattered in life—whether of family, friends, or the person meant to complete you.
Which made Amelia ask Jesse, “Did you have strong feelings for Caroline? Beyond the obvious physical ones?”
“Sure, I did. I’d been lonely a long time, and Zee had been gone thirty-odd years by then, although I had to stay away from her from the moment of the assassination ruse and wasted the remainder of her years. Caroline helped to fill a void. She took such great care of me as my nurse. Then one night, we decided we wanted more. How was I to know the experience would give me apoplexy and I’d die the next day?”
Amelia remembered when Caroline came to her to tell her she’d become pregnant. Amelia was married to George then, but talked Dr. Foster into renting a room to Caroline upstairs until the baby came. The baby had been born in the birthing room with Amelia’s future husband delivering little Jessica.
Jesse broke into her thoughts. “After Zee and I lost two of our four babies at birth, I wish I’d been around to help raise mine and Caroline’s little girl, Jessica, but I tried to watch over them as best I could from this side. Couldn’t keep Caroline from killing herself that night. Nor could I keep little Jessica or Mary, Tillie’s mother, from going down the paths they took.”
“I didn’t know that you and Caroline were having an affair until the night she gave birth. She wanted to explain to me why she could never marry the man who had left her pregnant.”
“She was a good woman. Another regret of my life was leaving her to deal with this alone. But I wouldn’t exactly call it an affair. We had just the one night.”
Amelia patted his arm. “You couldn’t help that it was your time to go that time, Jesse.” Still, so many people had been affected by what had happened. “Elmer and I, after we married, took Caroline and Jessica in, so they were never alone until we enlisted. I was in the South Pacific when she gave the little girl up for adoption. When I came home from duty, I found Caroline a wreck of a woman. She’d lost everything and simply didn’t know how to cope anymore. God knows I tried to care for her so she wouldn’t wind up in an asylum, but nothing we did could alleviate her remorse over giving up her daughter.”
“You were good to her, I know that.”
“But damn it,” Jesse declared, “I am bound and determined not to let Matilda Jane suffer for mistakes I and others made before she was even born.”
“I understand your frustration and remorse over not doing enough. When Tillie showed up on my doorstep that night with my wandering tomcat, it was like looking at Caroline again. I had no idea who had adopted little Jessica. Caroline wouldn’t tell me. But there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that this girl was a descendant of hers. It wasn’t until later that I figured out what had happened to Jessica after the adoption.”
Amelia watched Gregory scribble something quickly on a piece of paper and set the paper on the table in the hallway, placing the key on top. With one last glance of longing toward the back of the house, he sighed and walked out the front door, setting it to lock behind him. Her heart broke for him. He truly did love Tillie, but the two of them were allowing petty issues to come between them. Perhaps if they hadn’t been lied to and neglected by the ones they should have trusted as children, they wouldn’t be so mistrustful now.
Whether Gregory and Tillie would ever come to believe in each other, their destiny was now up to them.
Would she and Jesse be forced to linger between two worlds for all eternity if these two didn’t open their eyes? More than likely.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Greg didn’t plan to call the office to let them know he was in Minneapolis sooner than expected. After driving straight through from Kentucky, he crashed in bed, hoping the blessed escape of sleep would blot all thoughts from his mind. But images of Tillie—smiling, laughing, jumping into that pile of leaves and trusting him to catch her—kept flashing across his closed eyes.
But he hadn’t been there for her the way he should have.
Always, over and over, that final moment when she’d told him she wanted him out of her house and her life before turning and walking away. He couldn’t blame her. He’d screwed up. Big time.
Why couldn’t he tell her why he’d been so interested in finding evidence Jesse lived beyond what historians believed? So what if she thought he was off his rocker? If he never found anything, they would have had something to share a long, hard laugh about for decades to come.
Instead, he’d remained silent.
All the way to Minneapolis and since he’d arrived home late last night, he’d replayed their final conversation in his mind incessantly. Suddenly, something clicked.
“You came back here because you think Jesse James buried stolen gold in my house?”
Well, I’ll be damned. What if she was asking about why he’d come back to her the second time, not why he’d initially come to the house weeks before that? Could he have completely misunderstood her, which led to her sending him packing?
Of course, he’d initially headed to Kentucky to debunk her claims as well as to find proof that Jesse had lived for decades longer than believed by historians. But the only reason he’d come back after Tillie’s injury was because he’d wanted to be there for her, spend time with her, take care of her. Yeah, even though that drove her independent spirit nuts, he thought she’d liked having him there after a while.
Clearly not.
As for finding any treasure in that house, he’d found something beyond anything he could have ever dreamed of.
Tillie.
Only now he’d lost her.
Lost? No, more like he’d thrown her away because he was too proud to look a little demented for pursuing some elusive nonsense Gram
had written about in her diary seventy-seven years ago.
Still, Tillie’s reaction didn’t seem logical. Something else must be going on. What was he missing? Okay, he’d kept something from her—lied by omission. He’d grown up in a family where telling half-truths and keeping things hidden from the ones you loved was commonplace, but Tillie deserved better than that from him.
The sunrise peeking through his window cast a rosy hue on the wall. Another night without sleep. The time for wallowing in regrets was over. He needed to move on.
Dancing prisms on the wall made him think of Gram. Wait. He glanced at the window to find the source, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
What if…
Gram, is that you?
Until five weeks ago, he’d never thought much about spirits lingering after death, but hadn’t Derek seen her himself on numerous occasions? If she could appear to his son, why not to him?
Tillie received recipe cards from her, too. He’d questioned whether that was real, but in the end, he trusted Tillie to tell him the truth.
He was the one having trouble being honest.
“Gram, if you’re listening, I could use some help. I don’t know how to move on without her.”
Man, I’m truly losing it.
Then he realized the rainbows were in the exact same pattern he’d seen on the floor of Tillie’s foyer the afternoon he and Derek had arrived last month. In his mind, Jesse’s Hideout was no longer his grandmother’s house. Tillie had hung onto much of Gram’s influence and kept the building’s character intact, but she’d made the house her own.
Greg threw off the comforter and dressed quickly. If he lay here any longer, he’d be seeing ghosts, too—not only Gram’s but memories of his relationship with Tillie. He needed to expend some pent-up energy. Exhaust himself. A nice long bike ride along the Cedar Lake Trail and down the Mississippi on West River Parkway would work for starters. He’d decide from there how far out of the city he wanted to bike. Regardless, he’d make sure that tonight he’d be able to sleep again for the first time in days.
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