Jessie (9 page)

Jessie heard his tone and shot him a look, but Seth only stared at her. This was yet another issue they fought about. Jessie felt she could settle Hannah better than Seth could, but she got mad at him if he wanted to get out of the apartment and away from the noise. Not that he blamed her for not wanting to be left on her own. Hannah started to be unhappy each afternoon, and little could settle her outside of sleep. Thankfully she usually slept through the night, but not until her parents were exhausted and snapping at each other.

When they had first arrived, Jeb and Seth had been talking about Pastor English leaving Token Creek—his health was failing him—and the new, younger man, Rylan Jarvik, who had come to pastor the church. Seth had seemed genuinely interested, and Jeb had wanted to stay on this topic, but the older man could not ignore the exchange he'd just witnessed.

“So how is this affecting the two of you?” Jeb asked as Patience wandered off, bouncing Hannah all the while.

“We're fine,” Jessie said, ignoring the stare she felt Seth giving her.

“Is that what you would call it, Seth?” Jeb asked the younger man, even risking Jessie's ire.

“I think we're ready to move past this part of Hannah's life. It's hard not knowing how long it will go on.”

Jessie heard his weary answer and realized she could have admitted the same thing. Jeb was asking only out of concern, and she knew she had been too ready to defend her job as a mother.

“I'm tired,” Jessie felt free to say. “I love my daughter, but she wears me out.”

“I told you I can take care of the store,” Seth put in, his voice compassionate. “You need to nap when Hannah does.”

“What do you do when Hannah naps?” Jeb asked.

“Get as much done as I can or help in the store.”

Jeb's eyes swung to Seth, and that man said, “I don't do things quite how she likes.”

“Has business fallen off since Seth has been handling more?” Jeb asked.

Jessie shook her head no, not looking at either man. Things were great in the store. They had plenty of business and profit to show for it, but it was not just the way she wanted, and that irked her.

Before anyone else could comment, Patience arrived back, Hannah asleep in her arms. She smiled at the other three adults, and they laughed softly at her pleasure.

“Now,” she whispered, taking the rocking chair, “the four of us can have a nice visit.”

All four of them had to get hands over their mouths to keep from laughing loudly. The thought of having a whispered conversation was hysterical to each of them, but in truth that was just what they did.

May 1876

Seth reached for Jessie once they'd climbed into bed, but her stiff back made him swiftly draw his hand away. They had done little but fight for months now, and even though the last few days had gone smoother—Jessie had even welcomed his embrace a few nights before—his wife was evidently upset with him about something. Hannah had been fussy all evening, something they had actually seen less of, but much as Seth tried to help, nothing he did was right.

Seth rolled to his back and stared at the dark ceiling, wondering what happened to the woman he married. He had felt a stability with Jessie that he'd never known—love, trust, and caring too—but not anymore. Most days when she looked at him, she was frowning.

The bright spot was Hannah. If anything she was more work than ever before, now that she was walking and able to take things from the store shelves. But he loved his daughter in a way he didn't think was possible.

Jessie lay on her side and stared at the dark wall of the bedroom, wondering why the life she dreamed about was so hard. She had a beautiful 16-month-old daughter, her business was booming, and she'd married the man she loved, but all was not well. They were still tired much of the time and short with each other. Seth seemed quieter and more withdrawn with each passing week, and when they actually did have time alone, neither one said much.

Jessie fell asleep with no answers to her questions, no balm for the hurt inside of her.

Seth, in just as much pain and confusion, listened as her breathing evened out, asking himself what he was going to do about his life and marriage.

“What is this?” Jessie snapped at Seth for the fourth time since they'd opened two hours earlier.

“What does it look like?” Seth gritted out, not sure he could stand much more.

“It looks like a huge mess!”

“In case you haven't noticed,” Seth shot right back, “I've been with three customers at the same time here. I don't know when I would have had time to clean up the counter.”

“It's never your fault, is it, Seth?” Jessie said, straightening and shifting things with almost violent movements.

“Now that all depends on who you ask, doesn't it, Jessie?” Seth asked in silky sarcasm. “According to you, everything that's ever gone wrong in your life is
my
fault.”

Before Jessie could shoot back another angry retort, a cry from Hannah could be heard coming from the storeroom.

“Now, look what you've done!” Jessie snarled at him before shooting around the counter and running that way.

Seth stared after her, not sure when anything had made him so angry. He could feel the blood pounding in his temples and thought that if he couldn't get out of this store for a while, he was going to lose his mind.

He ran a distracted hand through his hair while his eyes caught sight of a letter. It had come yesterday and was for him. He didn't receive mail very often. Something—he still didn't know what—had compelled him to put it out of the way on a high shelf and not read it or mention it to Jessie.

The postmark was from Texas.

March 1884

Nearly Eight Years Later

Sheriff Nate Kaderly made his way slowly toward Pastor Rylan and Bri Jarvik's home, the wind calm for the moment. He was bundled up warmly, coat collar to his ears and hat pulled low, but was quite chilled by the time he knocked on the front door. Thankfully Bri took little time to answer, welcoming him into the warmth of the living room.

“Are you frozen?” she asked, seeing that he removed only his hat, not yet willing to give up the coat.

“Just about. The sun is deceiving. It looks warmer out there than it really is.”

“Sit close to the fire, Nate. I'll get Rylan.”

“Thank you. Where's that little guy?” Nate asked, referring to Rylan and Bri's son, Danny.

“He's napping, but he'll probably be up before you go.”

Rylan was not long in joining his friend. Not many weeks ago, he would have been getting his own coat and readying to leave with Nate for some emergency in town, but things had changed when Nate had been shot in the line of duty. Nate's visit today was not an emergency.

“Hello, Nate,” Rylan greeted as he entered.

“Hello, Rylan,” Nate spoke in return as the men shook hands.

“Are you sure you should be out?” Rylan asked. “I would have come to your house.”

“I needed the walk,” Nate said quietly, now setting his coat aside.

For a moment he looked older to Rylan than his 41 years, and the pastor was swept back, back to a day just two months earlier that had been life changing for Token Creek's sheriff.

“How is he?” Rylan asked of Doctor Ertz, wanting to head directly to the bedroom but making himself wait.

“Not good. He's lost so much blood, I don't know if he'll make it.”

Rylan moved then, heading to the sheriff's bedroom and finding his friend very still. He stood looking down at the white face, pale even amidst the white pillowcases and the two windows that allowed a bit of cloudy light into the room.

Rylan said Nate's name, but that man didn't move or respond in any way. Rylan felt his heart clench and wasted no time going to his knees. With his arms on Nate's mattress and his forehead on his arms, Rylan began to pray.

He's not ready, Lord. He's not ready to meet You. He has never humbled himself before You and seen You for the God that You are, the God who longs to save him and be his Lord. Please Father, give him more time. Please spare him, Lord. Your will is perfect, Father, and if it be Your will, please leave him here to find You and serve You.

Rylan didn't move for more than an hour but prayed, giving Nate over to God and thanking Him for His will. Rylan asked God to help him remember who was in charge and to want His way above all else so that God might be glorified by this incident.

“Rylan?” Nate suddenly asked, bringing the pastor swiftly to his feet.

“I'm right here, Nate,” Rylan said, noticing that Nate's eyes were still closed and wondering how he'd known.

“Thirsty,” Nate managed, and Rylan dribbled some drops of water into his mouth. Nate tried to talk after that but couldn't manage it. He fell back to sleep for another two hours, but when he woke again, Rylan was still there. This time the sheriff 's eyes were open, and he stared at the big man next to his bed.

“Has Ertz been here?”

“Yes. He says it's bad. You've lost a lot of blood.”

Nate saw the tears in Rylan's eyes and tried to lift his hand.

“It's all right, Rylan. If it's my time, it's my time.”

“It's not all right, Nate,” Rylan said in quiet humility. “You're not ready to go. You've heard me talk to so many townsfolk about God's Son, but you've never shown the least bit of interest. I know what God's Word says, Nate, and you're not ready to face Him.”

“How do I even know if there is a God?”

“I can answer that question for you, Nate, but let me ask one first. Are you willing to take that chance? Are you willing to leave here not knowing?”

The questions made Nate think for the first time. He couldn't stay awake for very long, but each time he woke, Rylan was there. The men talked off and on for hours. Doctor Ertz came and went again. Nate's deputies checked on him, and still Rylan stayed, determined to do so until Nate threw him out. The sheriff didn't do that. As darkness fell, Nate, feeling as though he was indeed slipping away, listened as Rylan read to him from the book of John. The words were familiar to him as Nate had heard Rylan say these things before. He listened well and after a time believed in the blood of Christ to save him.

Rylan eventually left, fairly certain his friend would not be there in the morning, but the sheriff lived through the night. He was weak and still not out of the woods, but he was alive. And that was only the beginning. Slowly Nate got back on his feet, and it was evident every time he and Rylan talked that his faith was real. It had been the start of a whole new life for the lawman.

“I read those verses in Acts 13 and Romans 3 and 7 you recommended,” Nate said, suddenly bringing Rylan back to his own living room. “They make sense. I didn't see it before, but they make sense now.”

“What changed for you?”