High Country Bride (18 page)

There was Daisy, sitting in a patch of small-faced sunflowers. She had a chain of them around her neck and was making what looked like a bracelet to go with it. James was not next to her. His wooden horses were there in the grass, but he was missing.

She laid the peach in the basket, slipped down the stepladder and scanned the orchard. Nothing. She didn’t see him behind any of the trees or climbing in the branches. How had he scampered off? And why? He knew better. Then she saw Aiden talking to Thad in front of the barn, leading Clyde by the reins. The big draft horse was saddled and had his nose toward the ground, stretching out as if he was scenting something. Or somebody.

James. There he was, partly hidden by the dip of the rise, wandering close to the men and their horses. Thad’s mustang gave a low nicker and turned, swishing his tail. Both horses watched the little boy hungrily, stretching out for the first fond caress.

She swept Daisy onto her hip and was already at the orchard gate when she saw Aiden focus in on the boy. With every step she took closer, she could more clearly see the strain on his face, the shadows in his eyes and the white lines around his tense mouth. Yet he was kind as he leaned down to speak to her son. James’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

“…you oughtn’t to run off on your ma like that.” Aiden’s low tones drifted toward her. “Here she comes. She’s in a panic, if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’d best tell that to her.” Those words were kind, but she knew they cost him. All she had to do was look at how tight Aiden was holding himself to know.

She ached for him and for her son. Her soul felt near to cracking as she bundled the affection for him away, storing it down deep. With any luck, it would be deep enough not to show. She set Daisy on the ground. “I’m sorry, Aiden. He snuck off on me. Hello, Thad.”

“Howdy, Joanna.” He lifted his hat in greeting. If any man could stand next to Aiden and hold his own, it was Thad. They were clearly good men cut from the same cloth.

“I’ve got a crate of apples and peaches in the lean-to set aside for you. Maybe one of plums, if I can get to it.” She took hold of her son’s shoulder. “I’ll have Aiden bring them in the wagon on Sunday.”

“That’s mighty kind of you.” Thad mounted up. “We’re going in to town to see Finn, although I reckon Aiden has probably already told you that.”

No, he hadn’t, but Joanna bit her lip. What Aiden chose to do with his time was surely not her concern. If it hurt that he hadn’t turned to her and that he would not, she had to tuck that down deep inside, too. “I hope your visit goes well. I’ve been praying for Finn.”

“That’s gotta help.” Thad tipped his hat to her before he wheeled his mustang around. “Come Sunday, I’ll let you have another ride on Sunny. What do you think about that, James?”

“That would sure be swell.” The boy drew his shoulders up, hope vibrating through him.

“I get to, too,” Daisy called out, holding out her handful of flowers. Clyde took a couple out of her hand as he walked by.

There was Aiden, towering far above them on the back of the giant horse. He sat rigidly straight, as controlled as a soldier, as remote as the farthest horizon. His mighty shoulders were braced, as if he were carrying a world of burdens on them. He did not look at Joanna as he passed by, but she could see the cords bunch in his neck and the muscles in his jaw clench tight.

If only she could forget his words.
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.

She watched him ride away into the sinking sun with regret weighing heavily upon her. Regret for rushing into marrying him. Regret for being a reminder of what he had lost. Regret for the love alive and committed in her heart, this time for a man who wanted to love her but never could.

“Ma, can you tie this up for me?” Daisy’s innocent request broke into her thoughts.

Again, she tucked both her love and her hurt away, and knelt to twist the last flower into place around her daughter’s little wrist, completing the chain.

“Ma?” James stood with his hands at his sides, watching Aiden disappear around the distant bend. “When I grow up, I want to ride a black horse, too.”

James’s admiration was sky-high for the man he wanted to be his pa. Another arrow straight to her heart. Joanna winced at the inner pain. Was this the way it was going to go? James pining quietly for a father, and Aiden always riding away? She was no different, she realized, wanting what could not be.

What could never be.

She took each child by the hand and headed back to the orchard. Whether she was happy or not, there was work waiting. She would have plenty of time to rest on snowy winter afternoons and think of her mistakes then—and of the man who would be sitting alone in his shanty, always separate from her.

From them.

T
he next morning the hurt on Joanna’s face still troubled him. Maybe because it was difficult thinking of his little brother locked up behind steel bars. Finn had refused to see him. Or maybe because his failures weighed heavy on his soul. Either way, he didn’t feel prepared for how she watched the ground instead of the world around her as she came out of the house in her Sunday best.

Her daughter hopped down the steps in two-footed jumps, her white-blond braids bouncing. The son saw him and took off at a run, eager to see the horses. Clyde gave a snort of welcome and stretched against the harness collar, reaching his neck as far as it would go.

“’Mornin’, sir. Thank you kindly for the hat!” The boy skidded to a stop in front of Clyde, who was calm enough not to bat an eye. The gentle giant gave a low nicker and lipped the boy’s hat brim affectionately.

Aiden nodded. It was the best he could do. He’d left the Stetson on the kitchen table late last night, knowing it would be found this morning. He held his heart firm and prayed that Joanna would hurry up so they could get this over with.

Heaven didn’t seem to be listening today. Joanna was taking her sweet time, locking the door, checking the lock, grasping her daughter’s hand. Every step she took toward the wagon seemed slower than the last. He shuffled his polished boots in the chalky dust, trying not to see the dread on her face or the little boy giggling softly as he petted the horses.

“Thank you for James’s cowboy hat. He loves it.” Her gaze was fixed on the wagon instead of on Aiden.

“Sure.” That one word seemed to stick in his throat. Maybe because the bonnet she wore made her eyes bluer than wildflowers. Delicate curls fell down to frame her gentle face, making him remember the night they had stood not far from here, and how he had held her face in his hands, her sweetness in his soul.

He hadn’t wanted to admit that then, but for some reason it was easier now when there was a vast distance between them. A distance so wide there was no way to cross it. They both knew it. Even if he risked everything within him by telling her how he felt, it wouldn’t matter. He had hurt her, and now she watched at him with dismay.

“We’d best get on the road,” he said, holding out his hand to help her up.

She didn’t take it. With a little hitch to her chin, she swung her daughter into the back of the wagon. That smarted a bit. He told himself it was just as well. Taking her hand would only bring him closer to her. And being closer to her was the one place he could not be. He waited until she was safely over the top rail before he climbed up onto the high seat.

“James,” Joanna called out. “Leave the horses, honey, and climb up.”

Something moved at the edge of Aiden’s vision. Something pink. “Mister, do you know what?”

He stared into the girl’s blue eyes—like Joanna’s—and swallowed hard.

“I made all this.” She patted the pink carnations wreathed around her neck. “Do you know what? I made you somethin’, too.”

To his surprise she stuck a flower in his shirt pocket.

“There.” She gave it a pat, so innocent and pure hearted. “Did you know God made all the flowers?”

“Y-yep.” The word scraped like a serrated knife. He swallowed hard. He couldn’t feel a thing. He wouldn’t let himself.

“Daisy, come sit down,” Joanna said in that patient, gentle way of hers. “Sorry about that, Aiden.”

“It’s no trouble.” Her nearness rubbed the edges of his heart raw. His throat worked and he gathered the reins. He could no longer make himself cold or steely enough not to feel. Longing whipped through his soul, regret though his heart. He released the brake. “You ready back there?”

“We’re all seated.” She sounded calm, as if he had never hurt her. As if they had never been anything more to one another than strangers.

He snapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward into the searing August sunlight. It was the brightness; surely that was the reason his eyes stung and why he found it hard to see.

“Why, look at you, children. You are simply charming.” Ida knelt in the church aisle and welcomed the little ones with a grandmotherly hug, and then went on to tell Noelle how cute each child looked.

Joanna filled up with adoration. Ida was an absolute blessing. The older woman fondly praised Daisy’s flowers and was delighted when the girl presented her with a carnation for her bonnet. Wearing the pink flower proudly, Ida hugged her again and complimented James’s new hat. He put it on for a moment to show her, before taking it back off politely. Ida said he looked like a wrangler, and he happily settled next to her on the pew.

“I need to talk with Thad,” Aiden said, a shadow at her back and nothing more, before striding off toward the far aisle.

Joanna caught her mother-in-law’s curious gaze and shrugged. What could she say? She remembered the lovely lace Ida and Noelle had made for a wedding gift, stitching in all their hopes and prayers for Aiden. How did Joanna tell Ida that present was still wrapped up for safekeeping? That she and Aiden were like strangers again, and no amount of prayer, it seemed, would stop it?

She settled on the hard wooden bench, disheartened. There was Aiden standing at the back of the church, discussing something with his brother. He looked serious and so grim, his face a granite mask.

“How are you, dear?” Ida asked after the children were settled. “You look weary.”

“It’s a lot of work to keep up with the orchard. I suppose you know that, since it used to be yours.”

“And glad I am that it’s yours now. It was getting far too much for me to tend to at my age. I wouldn’t mind lending a hand, if you would have me.”

“And me,” Noelle offered. “Although I’m not sure how much help I could be, but I’m excellent at moral support.”

“You both are more than welcome.” She had been alone for so long in the past, and now again in her marriage, that to have this friendly offer felt like a great treasure. Joanna hoped that she could offer them as much in the years to come. “How about after threshing day? I’ve been doing a fair amount to prepare for that, including enough baking for the both of us.”

“You are a wonder, Joanna,” Ida said as Daisy leaned against her for another snuggle. “And with all that is happening in your life, you get so much done. Now I have a question for you.”

Uh-oh. She had a terrible feeling that her mother-in-law was going to ask about Aiden or their marriage. She sneaked a glance over her shoulder, and there he was, deep in conversation with Thad and another man.

“That’s Joe Wolf,” Ida told her. “He’s a good lawyer, from what we hear. Now, how was Aiden after he came home from trying to see Finn?”

From trying to see Finn? What had happened? Had Finn refused to see Aiden? She knew that had to be hard for him; Aiden loved his family. “He said nothing to me about it.”

“I suppose it was late by the time the day’s work was done.” Ida nodded. “I remember how it is. There’s never enough daylight to get everything done in, and it seems the work doesn’t end. He looks troubled. What’s happened to Finn is a heartache for all of us. His lawyer says they are going to make some kind of a plea, so he will get less jail time. He wouldn’t even see me when I tried to visit him.”

While Noelle soothed Ida with comforting words, Joanna sat there silently, dismayed. She did not turn around. Aiden was hurting; she was hurting. What was the solution? She had once asked for God’s guidance in helping Aiden, and she thought she’d been heard. She really had.

She stared down at the battered Bible clutched in her hands, the one that had been her ma’s and her grandma’s before that, and had been held through decades of prayers. As she stood for the opening hymn and then the opening prayer, no answers came to her. She had felt this way so many times, in need and feeling forgotten. Lost. When the sermon began, she took Daisy onto her lap. The little girl settled against her, a sweet weight in Joanna’s arms and in her heart.

“Today’s sermon will be from Psalm 71.
‘But I
will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more.’
”

Her soul stilled. How was that for an answer? Maybe she had forgotten to listen and to wait for Him—certainly God was worth waiting for. Humbled, she listened to the minister’s words, realizing one thing. Faith, life and love were not easy. Sometimes you just had to hold on and—no matter what—believe.

She was still wearing her patched dresses, and it irked him no end. Aiden dumped a few cups of oats in the trough for Clyde and Dale. The old horses dug in, eager for their favorite treats. While they munched, he leaned to get a good look out Thad’s stable door toward the front yard, where Joanna stood in the shade of the house talking with Ma and Noelle, a peach cobbler in hand. Faint snatches of conversation whipped by on the breeze, and he couldn’t deny the way Joanna’s gentle alto could bring him peace. Or how softer life was simply from being near her.

“How’s the arrangement working out?” Thad asked wryly as he secured the lid on the grain barrel.

“Just fine, little brother. And keep in mind my marriage is none of your concern.” He arched his brow, but judging by the grin on Thad’s face, it didn’t work.

“Let me know if you need help.” Thad unhooked Sunny’s lead from the wall. “I’ve got a fair bit of experience when it comes to marriage.”

“Funny, as you’ve been married, what, four months?”

“I’m just offering, is all. Trying to be a good brother.” He ambled past and clipped the lead on the mustang’s halter. “Here come your stepchildren.”

Aiden gulped. He’d done all he could not to think of them that way. They weren’t his; they were Joanna’s children. Sure enough, they were bounding across the grass. The little girl was in the lead, braids bobbing. The boy stayed with her, keeping watch over her. They had both changed out of their Sunday clothes, and as they pounded closer, Thad’s wild mustangs broke into a run in the nearby field, startled by the sound and the motion.

The kids started talking. Thad answered, leading Sunny out into the yard. The mustang swished his tail and lowered his head politely to accept their eager strokes. He clearly wasn’t one to mind basking in the glow of adoration. Aiden gathered his strength, took a deep sustaining breath and followed his brother out into the yard.

“Sir!” James ran right up to him with a grin just like his ma’s and an earnestness that was hard not to like. “I got denim riding pants just like yours. Ma just finished ’em!”

So that’s what Joanna had been doing late last night. He had noticed the parlor lights on past midnight. He had wondered if she had been unable to sleep, too. Watching the night skies had always soothed him. Maybe sewing did the same for her.

The boy seemed to expect some sort of approval, so Aiden gave him a nod. A small twitch of pain made it through his defenses. He shored himself up more as the little boy ran back to Sunny, but the days of not feeling anything were past. Emotions slammed into Aiden like a summer storm, crashing with a physical pain against his ribs, and deeper, against his soul.

Joanna. She was coming toward him like a song, lightly, breezily, carrying a tray with a pitcher and cups, her skirt rippling in the wind. Those patched skirts. He clenched his hands, fighting the pain and something worse.

He wanted to be angry about those dresses she wore, and about why she hadn’t gotten new ones as he had told her to. A voice of reason somewhere in the back of his brain told him that maybe she was too sensible to go spending a bunch of money on dresses all at once. That would be just like her, he reckoned. But maybe she hadn’t done it because she did not want to rely on him. Her stubborn independence made him grind his teeth.

He wanted her to be closer. He wanted her to keep away. He wasn’t making a lick of sense and he knew it.

That irked him, too.

“I thought you all might be thirsty. It was a hot, dusty ride out here from town.” She set the tray down on the top of the feed barrel and faced him. “Aiden?”

He was not strong enough to look at her. If he did, he felt he might come apart. All his defense seemed to be nothing against her loving presence. He cleared his throat and studied his boots. “Sounds good.”

The kids clattered up to her, pressing close to her skirts. He did his best to shut out their happy sounds, telling Joanna how they were going to go riding. He heard James say, “I get to learn to ride by myself today!
He’s
gonna teach me how to rein!”

“You mean, Aiden?” Joanna sounded confused. “No, honey, I think you misunderstood.”

“Nah, I heard just fine.”

Thad’s promises, Aiden knew. Thad was trying to help, that was all. Aiden realized his mistake. He had been trying to stay back from the children, so hadn’t been able to keep watch over what Thad was telling them.

He swallowed hard against something fluttering in him—panic. He felt trapped. Suffocating again, unable to get air. Then suddenly there was Joanna, offering him a cup of lemonade. She was like rain in a drought. Everything he wanted beat within him like a deadly thunderhead.

“Your ma said this was your favorite.”

Her smile was likely to undo him, and yet he could not look away. Her hand against his was the greatest comfort and the deepest agony. He would have moved but he was rooted like an oak to the ground.