A Mother at Heart (11 page)

Jake snaked a hand around her neck, capturing her. “Why did you do that?” he asked, his deep brown eyes delving into hers.

Miriam allowed herself a small dream, a tiny reaching toward the unattainable, and stroked his thick hair away from his face, the way she always used to do. “For old times' sake,” she whispered, her voice catching.

Jake's eyes seemed to darken as tension built, almost tangibly. Then, slowly, he pulled her head down and touched his lips to hers. It was the barest of caresses, his breath warm on her mouth. Their knees were pressed against each other, preventing closer intimacy.

His warm, soft lips moved over hers, entreating, compelling. Miriam's hands went slack, then she reached up, threading her fingers through his thick hair, anchoring his head as her own mouth returned his caress.

What are you doing? The thought cut through the soft, intangible cocoon of ardor they had spun. Mir
iam didn't want to acknowledge it, didn't want to pull away. Jake's hand on her neck, his mouth on hers—these were so achingly familiar and so dear. His touch answered a longing that no one else had or ever would.

But…he wasn't for her. She dropped her hand and lowered her head, breaking the contact.

Miriam saw his hand clench into a fist on his knee, and she wanted to touch it, to smooth away the tension she saw there. But she had caused it, she was sure, and would not be able to offer a cure.

“Why, really, did you come back, Miriam?” he asked, his voice hoarse with repressed emotion.

Miriam felt her heart skip, wondered what she dared tell him and still keep her heart whole.

“Did you come here just to sell the farm?” Jake looked up at her. “You could have done that from out east. You say you came for a break, but I sense there's a lot of pain in your life. Was it a man?”

Miriam closed her eyes at how close he had struck with his comment, yet how far. She could tell him “yes,” and she knew he would take it the wrong way. If she said “yes,” he would assume she meant a man back east, and he would let go of her hand.

But their sitting here in this kitchen, his rough hand holding hers, brought back bittersweet memories. Memories of stolen kisses and whispered promises. Memories of a love that still haunted her.

And though what she had to say would make her vulnerable to him, she knew she had to finish this at this moment if she was to go back with any measure of peace.

“I guess I wanted to find out about you and
Paula,” she said quietly. “I had a foolish hope of reconciling with her and you. But I can't talk to her, so there's only you. I want to find out why you broke up with me. Why you married her.”

Jake's head shot up and his hands tightened on hers.

As their eyes met, Miriam wondered if she had done the right thing.

J
ake stared at her, trying to delve past her composed features, her shuttered gaze. “You were the one who wanted to run away,” he said simply.

“Because you were talking about our giving each other space and time. And then when I was gone just a few months, I find out you loved Paula.”

Jake straightened, realizing for the first time how it had looked from her side.

“Is that what you thought?” he asked.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Miriam's voice was heavy with sarcasm, and the mood in the room suddenly shifted.

“I left, and the next thing I knew you took her to the prom and married her,” she continued. “What happened?”

“Why didn't you write me?” he countered.

“Are you kidding?” Miriam got up and shoved the chair back, and Jake saw a brief flash of the old
Miriam. “You break up with me, and you expected
me
to write
you?
”

“I didn't break up with you, Miriam. I told you we needed to give each other some space, some time.”

“So you could marry Paula.”

He suddenly realized how the situation had looked to her, yet hesitated to explain.

“No,” he said quietly.

“Then why?” Miriam's voice rose. “Why did you never write me. I was willing to wait. You promised you would love me forever. Why didn't you care—?” Her voice broke on that last word and her hands flew to her face, covering her shame, her pain.

Jake felt his own heart twist at the sound of her voice, the sight of her anguish. He was surprised at the strength of her emotions. Why should it matter after all this time?

He was unsure what to do. She stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, the muted sounds of her cries fastening on his soul like barbed hooks.

He got up, walked toward her and carefully, gently, took her in his arms. At first she resisted, her shoulders hunched, her hands still clutched over her face.

Then, slowly, as he continued to hold her, to stroke her back, the tension holding her in its thrall loosened, and she lay her head against his shoulder. Her slender arms slipped around him, and Jake let his eyes drift shut as she clung to him, his own arms tightening, holding her as close as he dared.

“I'm sorry, Miriam. I'm so sorry. What a mess this all turned out to be.”

“Why did you want to break up with me?” she cried, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Why did you marry Paula? Was she the one you loved?”

Jake didn't want to talk about Paula. Didn't want to bring her between them again. For now he was content just to hold Miriam, to imagine for a moment that she was in his arms because she loved him and because this was the only place she truly wanted to be. He sighed lightly, tucking her head under his chin. And he knew he had to tell her the truth. “No, Miriam. There was another reason I married Paula.”

“First tell me why you broke up with me.” Miriam pulled away, looking discomfited at her outburst.

“I didn't want to. Your mother had told me that she had all these big plans for you and that I was getting in the way.” Jake's chest lifted in a sigh; he carefully reached up and stroked her silky soft hair, inhaling the scent of it.
Just for now, Lord,
he prayed.
Just for now let me pretend she loves me. Just for now let me pretend that she cares for me and that she has come here because she wants to stay.
“I knew what I was, what I didn't have,” he continued. “I was turning eighteen in the summer. When that happened, Fred and Tilly would no longer be responsible for me. What could I offer you? When you came up with that half-baked scheme about running away—I have to confess, for a moment, I thought of it, too.” He trailed a finger behind her ear and down her neck, remembering other times, happier times, when she was in his arms. “But I also knew that running away never solved anything. It only got Simon in trouble. I knew I had to wait and see what was going to happen in my life. Your mother…” He
stopped. Her mother was dead. Bringing her up was unfair and didn't solve anything.

“What about her?”

“Doesn't matter,” Jake said quietly.

“Yes it does, Jake.” She brushed the remnants of the tears away from her face. “I know she had a lot to do with how my life ended up. When she was dying, I tried to ask her, but she couldn't tell me. You have to.”

Jake drew in a deep breath and turned away from Miriam, his mind going back to that evening when he found out what Edna Spencer really thought of him. “She told me that I didn't deserve you, and she was right. However, she also warned me that if I continued seeing you, she would cause problems for me and social services. I was scared. I was afraid she would see to it that I was kicked out of Fred and Tilly's place, and I had no other place to go. I didn't want to talk to Fred and Tilly about it because I didn't trust them. But I also knew she was right. What she had planned for you was bigger than anything I could ever offer.”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought the best thing for both of us was for me to let go of you and give you a chance at something else.” He pulled his hand over his face and blew out his breath. “I thought that maybe someday, I could make something of myself and come and get you. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Then you left, and I never heard anything more.” He turned to face her, his eyes holding hers, his own questions demanding answers. “I guess the
last thing I expected was that you would become a model.”

“That happened after you married Paula. Please tell me why?” Jake heard the sorrow in her voice, and it echoed the pain in his heart.

He didn't know precisely how he was going to explain. “Paula was…aggressive.”

He turned to face her. But Miriam was now pressed back against the counter, her arms wrapped around her waist. Definitely defensive.

“You mean she came on to you, and you couldn't resist?”

“Not exactly that.” Jake reached out to touch her, and Miriam flinched away. He had hoped that what he had said would ease some of the tension, but instead it increased it. “I'm not proud of those few moments in my life. I was missing you. You hadn't written. I didn't know where you were. I tried to phone and got your mother. I was lonely, and I didn't know what to do anymore. Fred and Tilly had told me they were going to send me to agricultural college and that they wanted me to stay with them after that. Fred wanted me to run the farm with him.” He laughed, a bitter sound. “If he had told me that a month sooner, things would have been different for us.” He carefully pulled her hand away from her waist, taking it in his own, needing to make a connection with her while he spoke. “If I had known I had a future here, security, I would have stood up to your mother.”

“Why didn't you, anyway?”

“I was a foster child, and I had lived in enough foster homes to learn to keep things to myself. You
don't ask about the future because no one can tell you. You have no legal rights, and your foster parents have no legal responsibilities. I had lived with Fred and Tilly for four years, yet I still hadn't learned to fully trust them.” Jake stroked her fingers with his, his eyes on her hands.

“And Paula.”

She was relentless. “Yes, Paula.” He laughed shortly. “She asked me to the prom, and I said yes. I was lonely, and I missed you. Shortly after that we ended up at a party together. I thought you were living it up in the east, happy without me.” He laughed shortly. “I thought this was the glorious future your mom had planned.” He rubbed his neck, sighing. “At this party, I started drinking, and the next thing I knew I woke up in my truck. She was with me.”

Miriam pulled her hand out of his, a soft cry escaping her lips.

“I know now that nothing happened,” Jake said quickly, wanting to get past that part of the story and how it might look to her. “But at the time she had me convinced that we had been intimate. I had no other choice but to offer to marry her. I was young, scared and thinking I would lose my chance with Fred and Tilly. I didn't realize then that it wouldn't have, and that I'd always underestimated the power of their love for me. Always.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Paula and I didn't have a great marriage. It was okay at first, but what she had done always hung between us. I tried, but I know I didn't try hard enough. She said she felt tied down by the farm. By Taryn. So she would leave. She always came back,
and I would try again. It would be okay for a couple of weeks then she'd get antsy and pretty soon she'd be gone. The last time she left I begged her to stop doing this. She got angry and stormed out the door. Two hours later the police were at the door.”

“Oh, Jake. I'm so sorry.”

“In spite of all of that, I have Taryn. I will always thank the Lord for her. The beauty that came out of the ashes.”

Silence again. Miriam sighed lightly, her hand rubbing her forehead, back and forth, back and forth.

“What a mess,” she said softly.

Jake silently agreed.

They stood in silence, Jake trying to mentally meld what he knew about Miriam's life with what he had once believed; he prayed she was doing the same.

And what was going to come of this heart-to-heart? Love might conquer all in songs, but for him and Miriam, it seemed, there was too much history to get past. He had wanted to clear the air between them, to lay old ghosts to rest. She had come to do the same.

But now, after talking with her, he wondered if they would ever have a chance.

Miriam pushed herself away from the counter and stopped a moment in front of Jake. She laid her hand on his shoulder and looked up at him.

Jake knew he should let her go, but he couldn't. He looked at Miriam, letting his eyes linger on her face, the features that were so much hers and yet older, harder.

He reached out to touch her, just once. That was all he meant to do. Then, as his hand lightly cupped
her cheek, she caught his wrist, holding his hand against her. She sighed lightly, turning her head just enough to kiss the palm of his hand.

Her gesture pulled him toward her. And once again he curled his hand around her neck, once again he dared to pull her head nearer. She didn't resist, and it was his undoing. Their breaths mingled for only a moment, then he carefully touched his mouth to hers, the familiarity of it rocking him.

Then he slipped his arms around her, pulling her closer, holding her tighter, as his mouth moved against hers. She clung to him, returning his kiss, her fingers threading through his hair, capturing his head.

It wasn't enough—it was just a teasing hint of what they had missed all those years apart. Jake kissed her again and again, his mouth on hers. Then he pulled away, ignoring Miriam's muted cry of protest, kissing her cheek, her forehead, her eyes, curving her head into his neck and holding her tightly against him.

“Oh, Miriam,” he said. “I wanted to do this the first time I saw you on the road.”

She said nothing, only clung to him, her movements almost desperate.

Then, suddenly, she pulled away, taking his arms and drawing them away from her. She touched his mouth with her fingers as if to capture the kiss he gave her, slowly traced the line of his lips, then, without saying another word, turned and walked out of the house.

Jake felt bereft as he watched her get in her car and drive away, dirt spinning, gravel flying out be
hind her. She fishtailed at the end of the driveway, then turned and drove away.

Jake took a long slow breath.
I don't know what just happened, Lord, but be with her,
he prayed quietly.
Hold her in Your hands, take care of her.
He drew in a deep breath.
Help me, as well.
He didn't know what he needed, but he knew that he had to swallow his own pride and go one step farther.

He had to talk with Miriam about the future—and that thought frightened him more than anything.

Miriam stepped on the accelerator as her car hurtled along. She drove without a destination, outrunning what lay behind her.

She felt as if her breath were still trapped in her chest, a heavy disquiet stirring deep within her. What she and Jake had shared in the past hour had completely switched and realigned her world.

All her perceptions, her ideas, had rearranged, and she had discovered one irrefutable fact.

She loved Jake Steele.

She slowed, wavering, her hand clenched to her heart. Oh, how she still loved him.

A deer, startled by her headlights, bolted in front of her. Miriam braked and swerved, narrowly missing it. She slammed on the brakes and rocked to a halt, dropping her head on the steering wheel.

She drew in a long, shuddering breath and slowly sat up. The quiet hum of the car and the glow of the dashboard lights created a safe place.

Just as it had been a haven to her as she drove to Waylen, this car was her escape now.

Miriam turned off the engine and the lights of her
car. The moon was waning, a thin sliver of light in a sky scattered with crushed stars.

She stepped out and let her eyes adjust to the heavy darkness. The silence pressed in on her, broken only by the faint croaking of frogs in a marsh below her.

She was close to Rock Lake, she realized, slowly able to make out a few more landmarks. She crossed the road and scrambled through the ditch, still soggy from spring runoff. A fence blocked her way, but she climbed over it, disregarding the barbs on the wire.

Miriam walked slowly along the field, staying close to the edges, her eyes on the ground. By the time she got to the top of the hill her eyes had adjusted. The cool evening breeze was stronger here on the top of the hill, and she shivered, pulling her coat closer.

Below her yard lights winked, scattered across the landscape, each representing a farmer's yard. There were more than when she used to come up here as a much younger girl.

Miriam pulled her coat down and slowly sat down, pulling her knees close to her, dropping her head back.