High Country Bride (17 page)

“You misunderstand.” He sounded as if he was suffocating. She could only see the faint outline of his forehead and nose. He was pure shadow. “I feel. Before you came, there was nothing, only hard work and making a living off the land and keeping my distance. You changed that.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, but it happened just the same.”

She worked at the thin gold band on her fourth finger, the one he had put there with a vow and promises he would not break. She didn’t know what to say. Love beat stronger within her, and yet it was not strong enough. “I wanted to make your life better, Aiden. To make your burdens easier, the way you did for me and my children.”

“I know that.” His palms cradled her face, rough with calluses and tender with care.

She brought her hands up to his, holding on to his strength, taking in his sweet tenderness. He cared for her. That was more than she expected. More than she had dreamed. She breathed in the silence, and the night did not seem as bleak. The gleam of starshine seemed to linger like hope.

“I wish I were like you.” His baritone voice was raw, as if speaking brought him pain. “But I cannot do this.”

“Do what?” Was he talking about Finn again? she wondered. Or her presence in his house?

“I know, Joanna. I see how you look at me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. But it was too late. She had not hidden her love for him as well as she’d thought. Heat swept across her face and regret into her heart. She tugged what defenses she could around her and steeled her spine. Whatever he said next, she knew it was going to hurt. There was no other way it could be. “I know you can’t love me, Aiden. I’m not asking for that. You have to know.”

“I do.” He grimaced, and what little she could see of him was tortured. “Don’t think I don’t want to. I wish I could. Prayer hasn’t helped. I can’t find my heart. Sometimes you lose too much of yourself and you can’t get it back.”

“I’m not asking you for anything.” She had to stop him, because there was only one way this could end. She told herself she wasn’t hurting. That he couldn’t be rejecting her if he never loved her in the first place.

But hearing that he wished he could love her was worse than any loss. Any pain. She saw him for the first time, a man broken beyond repair, struggling for life the way a drowning man fights for air. He was going down and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Nothing but try to fix what she could. She did not want to lose him.

She drew in a ragged breath and gathered up the bits of her dignity. “Nothing between us has to change. Everything is the same, Aiden.”

“It’s not the same.” He choked on the words. “I’ll move out into the shanty.”

“No, you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s what I want.” He stood firm. Resolute. “I won’t uproot the children again, and it makes no difference to me where I live. I’ll move tonight.”

“But it’s l-late.”

“It’s only a mattress and my pillow. Not much to move.”

“No, please I…I—”

“I’m sorry.” Hearing the tremble in her voice was agony. He was cracking apart like a frozen river in spring, one sharp break after another. It was too much. It was more than he could take. “This isn’t what I want. I wish—”

He couldn’t finish that, not with words, not even in thought. The presence of her hands on his destroyed him. She was soft as moonlight and as comforting as prayer and her hands were small. How could she do so much with them? She was powerful enough to tug at the embers of his heart.

“You wish that you had never married me.” Her voice was thin and raw.

No, that wasn’t true. But when he tried to tell her, his throat closed up tight. He leaned forward an inch, longing for what he could not let himself have. She tipped her face up. The starlight dusted the curves of her face, revealing her loving heart. She shone like a polished pearl, lovely from the inside out, and he yearned for her tenderness the way stars longed for the night.

He cared deeply about her. He wanted to deny it, to lie to himself, to hide from the truth. But it was like life in his veins, like the beat coming back to his heart. He was drowning, without air to breathe or ground to plant his feet on. If he took her into his arms and let her settle her cheek against his chest and held her tight, he would find what was lost. Letting himself fall in love with her would be like walking in the light again.

Panic made him step back. His vulnerabilities were exposed and the depth of his soul found.

It took all his strength to let go of her. To do the right thing and protect them both. Life was too hard and love too uncertain.

“I’d best get settled.” He left her standing there, graced by starshine and the rising moon, and holding his heart.

“T
hat’s a dear little dress you’re making,” Cora Sims commented days later, across the width of Noelle’s comfortable parlor. “For your little girl?”

“Yes. From the fabric I bought at your store.” Seated next to Noelle on the sofa, Joanna held up the calico frock. “I’ve made it a bit fancier than usual, with ruffles and satin ribbon trim.”

“Adorable.” Lanna Wolf, an old friend of Noelle’s, put down the quilt patch she was sewing and leaned forward to admire the fine workmanship. “I love the backstitching you’ve done here. And the little embroidery work on the collar and cuffs.”

“I’ll have to have Ida remember this for when we start making baby clothes.” Noelle paused, happiness lighting her lovely face as she waited expectantly for her hint to sink in.

“A baby? Really?” Matilda Worthington, Noelle’s cousin, gasped on Joanna’s other side. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Don’t you tell your mother yet. I’m planning on letting her know in person. She is not fond of surprises.” Noelle stopped to count her stitches with her fingertips.

“Thad must be beyond the moon,” Lanna said. “Your first child. Joe and I are still waiting.”

“It can come when you least expect it,” Joanna found herself saying. Why there was a lump in her throat, she couldn’t rightly say. “I had been married two years before I found out I would be having James. He was worth waiting for.”

“I guess God knows when the time is right.” Noelle sparkled, radiant with joy. “I’m thankful for this little one on the way. Speaking of which, I think I hear the patter of small footsteps.”

Sure enough, James bolted into the doorway and skidded to a stop. Grass seed clung to his shirt and a grass stain was at his knee. Luckily, he wasn’t wearing his new trousers. “Ma. Can me and Daisy have more pie?”

“Not right now.” She secured her needle and folded up the tiny dress. “It’s about time for us to head home. How about an extra big piece after supper?”

He looked around at the women watching him and squared up his chin. “Okay, Ma. I’ll get Daisy’s toys so we can go.”

“Thank you, baby.” The lump in her throat remained, stubbornly stuck in place. She leaned forward to slip her things inside her sewing basket as his footsteps padded away.

“Oh, he’s such a dear.” Cora watched him go with longing. It was clear to see she was not a spinster by choice, and that she wanted children. “You have such well-behaved little ones.”

“They are good.” Joanna secured the lid on her basket. “They are my greatest blessings.”

“Aiden seems good to them.” Cora folded up her work, too. “At my age, I keep hoping I might find a handsome widower with children. I think there’s nothing that says more about a man than being a good father.”

“We’ll have to see if we can’t find you one of those,” Lanna said, and the conversation turned to which handsome widower in the county might be right for Cora.

Joanna lifted her basket and went to get her things in the corner by the front door. It was a beautiful sight to see the golden wheat fields out beyond the large windows. The air puffing in through the screens smelled like bread baking. Harvest time was coming. A few more days, and she would be busy cooking and baking enough to feed the men. A few days later, she had agreed to do the same, with Ida’s help, in Noelle’s kitchen.

Aiden. Whenever she thought of him she had to lock up the feelings in her heart. She was too busy to waste a minute crying for what was never meant to be. She was too vulnerable to really think about what she had done. She had tipped her hand, and Aiden had not only guessed her feelings, he hadn’t spoken to her since, beyond a few thank-you’s, and letting her know the date the threshers were coming. She put his meals in the empty shanty, not knowing how warm the food would be when he finally wandered in from his work. It was her fault that they were both miserable—all her fault.

She would do anything she could to wind back time. To work harder at keeping her feelings hidden. Or, better yet, she should have nipped them in the bud when she first realized she was falling for him. Now, she did not have his friendship or his presence in her life. She was alone all over again, and missed him terribly.

She knelt to unpack the preserves she’d brought, and began setting out enough jars for everyone.

Cora had come to fetch her reticule, but stopped at the colorful sight. “Look at what Joanna brought. The prettiest jams I’ve ever seen.”

“And hopefully the tastiest, too.” Joanna couldn’t help being pleased. She had worked from dawn until dark over a hot stove. Canning was next. “The orchard is brimming with more than we could possibly use. If anyone wants fresh fruit, just let me know.”

“I love peaches. Oh, and plums.” Cora sighed. “I miss having my own trees, living in town as I do.”

“Me, too.” Lanna spoke up, joining them. “I’ll bring dessert next week. If Joanna will let me drop by for a bucket of peaches.”

“Sounds like a treat,” Joanna agreed, unable to remember the last time she’d had this much happiness in her life. Although she was still getting to know these women, she had the feeling they would be good friends for life. She could see her little ones out front on the porch with Ida. James had his wooden mustangs and Daisy had her doll. Both children were well-fed and secure and happy.

The only thing wrong in her life was Aiden. She feared that was something that would never be right again.

Aiden forked fresh hay into the corral manger and watched the horses, tired from their fieldwork, amble over to get their supper. Over their sun-warmed backs, he could see Joanna coming toward the house from the shanty. It ripped him apart to watch her, but he could not seem to look away. No doubt she had delivered the evening meal, and her attention was riveted on the hillside between the houses where her children were playing.

He heard Thad come up behind him with the water bucket. “Why is she bringing our suppers to the shanty?”

Aiden winced, although he had been expecting the question. He set the pitchfork against the wall. “I told you this wasn’t a real marriage. I gave Joanna the house, figured it was better for her and the kids, and I took the shanty.”

“So you really are doing this? You’re married to her but you’re living apart from her.” He upended the bucket into the water bin.

“That’s right. Don’t see as how it’s any of your business.” He tossed his brother a half grin. “Thanks for your help cleaning up, Thad. That storm left quite a mess.”

Although,
he
was the one who’d felt like a mess that night, talking to Joanna. He flicked his gaze back to her. She was on the kitchen doorstep now, leaning down to speak softly to her son. The boy was looking at the barn and his face was squinted up, as if he was trying not to cry.

She had kept the children away from him; she probably thought he would be happy about that. He wasn’t, but it was just as well. He blew out a sigh and kept to the shadows in the aisle. She soothed her hand over the boy’s head. His nose was slightly pink from playing in the sun.

The boy needed a hat. Joanna ought to buy him one, and if there was a voice at the back of Aiden’s mind saying that he could do it the next time he was in town, he ignored it. It was easier, sure, but sensible not to listen to that. The boy wanted a pa, that was plain to see. That could only spell trouble.

“I’m glad to help, you know that.” Thad lowered the bucket, looking thoughtful. “I was going to head to town tomorrow and see Finn. You want to come?”

“I don’t think he wants to see me.” Aiden watched Joanna as she knelt to give her son a hug. It was a marvel how she radiated love. She was a vision in calico; somehow she was more beautiful to him every time he looked at her. And that tore at him, too.

Thad plodded closer. “I think you need to see him. And then there’s the matter of getting him a lawyer.”

“I don’t see how we can afford to.” Aiden braced himself against that pain, too. He’d let down too many people. “I don’t see how we can afford not to.”

“I talked to Noelle’s friend Lanna. Her husband is a lawyer and he’ll cut his fee for us. What do you think?”

“I can pay half if you can.”

“We’ll figure out a way.” Thad led him down the aisle. “C’mon, I’m hungry enough to eat a bear.”

“That’s two of us, little brother.” He hated that he wanted to drag his feet. Joanna was still in sight. She was lifting two five-gallon buckets, empty now, and swinging them as she walked. Thank heavens she was heading away from him. He wouldn’t have to face her and remember the other night, when he had let her think that he regretted marrying her.

“Aiden, do you reckon she left us any pie?”

“There’s a mighty good chance.” There she was, about to round the far corner of the house. He drank in the sight of her, trying to harden his heart, fighting to keep from caring, but it came anyway. His feelings for her were sweet like spring. Two more steps, a swish of her pretty green skirt, and she was gone from his sight.

But the caring in his heart remained.

“Look at this place.” Thad’s voice brought him back to the moment.

They were standing in the shadow of the shanty. The amber prairie rolled out before them in a thousand shades of tan and yellow, but where did his eye go? Toward the far corner of the orchard that he could see. There was no sign of Joanna, but he knew she was there, picking fruit.

He ought to be out there helping her, but he couldn’t make himself do it. So he followed his brother into the small house and went to wash his hands at the basin.

“I can’t believe this is the same shanty.” Thad glanced around as he passed Aiden the soap. “She put up new curtains for you and everything.”

She had made such a difference here.

All he had to do was look around to see the spotless and polished stove, the gleaming counters and shelves, the gingham curtains, clean and pressed and fluttering in the breeze from the screened window. A cloth lay over the table, where supper for two was set out and covered and two place settings awaited them.

“Peach cobbler,” Thad exclaimed as he lifted one of the tins. “It’s my lucky day. Tell me again why you’re not in love with that woman?”

Aiden winced, and rinsed his hands in the basin, glad he could turn his back to his brother. He didn’t want him to guess at the truth. He cleared his throat, wishing words alone were powerful enough to change his heart. “Love ought to be based on more than a well-baked dessert. But I don’t want anything to do with love, anyway.” He took the towel from the rack and ignored the subtle scent of sunshine and the soap Joanna used. “I’m not building my life on something that can be gone in a flash. It’s foolish, plain and simple. It’s not what life is about.”

“I see.”

It was the quiet way his brother said the words that made his lungs seize up. His hands fumbled as he hung the towel. “I’m glad you understand then.”

“I do.”

The way he said that made Aiden grimace. “You think I love her.”

“Yep.” Thad looked mighty sure of himself as he poured tea into the glasses that Joanna had left them. “I think she loves you back. Look at all she’s done for you. This meal. She spent time on this. She put care into this. She could have spent half the effort and it would have been more than enough.”

“She’s a hard worker. It has nothing to do with me.” He didn’t believe it, but he wanted it to be the truth. More than anything. His hands shook as he pulled out the ladder-back chair at the table. There were comfortable cushions tied neatly to the chair seat and back. Joanna, again.

“You can say it all you want—” Thad stared as he settled across the table “—but that won’t make it true. I know. I’ve been where you are. Letting yourself fall in love with a woman is a risk. There’s no guarantee you won’t get your heart broken in the end.”

“You make too little of it.” Pressure built in Aiden’s chest, expanding against his ribs. He’d had enough of this talk. Instead of saying what he meant, he bowed his head for prayer. Since his throat was hurting, too, he growled, “You say the blessing.”

“I’ll say it when I’m good and ready, big brother.” Thad looked to be in one of his stubborn moods. “You listen to me. You’ve got a mighty nice woman for a wife, and I think you’re falling in love with her and it scares you to death.”

“You don’t think I haven’t turned to my faith on this?” He leaned back in his chair, hurting, just hurting. Why wouldn’t Thad leave it alone? “I’ve prayed for years on this. I’ve prayed until I’ve run out of prayers. I trust God knew what he was doing when he took Kate and my son from me. I don’t know why, but everything God does for us is because he loves us. I accept that. But what I can’t do is lay everything I am on the line again and lose what is most precious to me. I can’t do it. I won’t. I’m not strong enough.”

There. He watched the realization dawn in his brother’s expression, his brother who had always been someone he could count on, and he gave thanks, as he bowed his head, for Thad. “Are you going to say grace, or am I going to?”

“I’ll say it.” His brother bowed his head, beginning the prayer.

Aiden hardly heard it. What he heard was the rapid swish of his pulse in his ears and the truth in his heart.

The days had fallen into a rhythm, but although life was pleasant, Joanna couldn’t say she was happy. Mornings were spent on chores around the house, and if she didn’t work for Noelle or Cora, she squeezed in all the time she could working outside. Now, as she carefully twisted a peach from the branch of the reaching tree, she checked between the leaves for her little ones.