On Her Way Home (40 page)

Mac nodded his head, and they continued on with their respective tasks quietly for the next several minutes until Mac pressed deeper. “Is that all?” He acted nonchalant as if he were just making small talk, but Kirby suddenly stopped flipping the rope and peered sharply up at him from under his bushy gray eyebrows. “Did you stop anywhere else?” Mac asked again, continuing on with his act despite Kirby’s suspicious scrutiny.

“Humph,” Kirby snorted, seeing through Mac’s guise. Resuming his weaving, he hedged, “Well, we did make one other stop…”

Mac turned toward him, his face expectant. “Where?”

Kirby watched Mac for a minute, debating whether he should say or not. He’d gotten the feeling from Jo that she wanted to keep her plans close to the chest for now, but he had no idea why. Deciding to trust his gut, he said tersely, “We stopped at the depot office.”

Mac’s eyes went wide with surprise and then narrowed. Swallowing thickly, he asked Kirby in his low voice, “Did she buy a ticket?”

Kirby hesitated.

“Well, Kirby, did she or not? Is she making plans to leave?” Mac demanded curtly.

“Don’t bark at me, pup, or I’ll clean your plow. You, out of everyone, shouldn’t be gittin’ all fussed up like you found a rattler in your sack. You all but packed her bags and set them on the porch!”

Mac glared at Kirby but bit his tongue, knowing the old codger was right. Still, it hurt him that Jo would make plans to leave and hide it from him. Resting his hands angrily on his hips, he stormed at Kirby, “When does her train leave?”

Kirby shook his head from side to side, fed up with Mac and his moods.

“When, Kirby?” Mac barked at him.

“I’m taking her to town at the end of the week,” Kirby finally relented.

Mac threw the bottle of oil onto the table and yelled at Kirby as he darted out the tack room door. “I’ve got some business to take care of in Missoula.”

Kirby hobbled after him. “Hold on a minute! Are you leaving
now
?”

Mac didn’t answer him but sprinted across the yard and into the house. Kirby followed Mac all the way to the barn doors and then stood there, confused, as the front door slammed. Shaking his head in disgust, he turned around and walked back to the tack room, muttering to General as he passed him. “If a man’s gonna get in the saddle, he darn well better know how to ride.”

Chapter Thirty

It was a bright morning, and Jo could already smell that first hint of autumn in the air. Walking under a birch tree as she skirted the edge of the field, she reached up and snatched a crinkly yellow leaf from its branches. It was dry and brittle, and balling her fist, she crumpled it easily in her hand and let it float to the ground in pieces.

This morning she’d woken up to do her chores, and when she’d sat down at the table for breakfast, Mattie informed her that Mac had gone away on business for a few days and didn’t say when he would be back. Jo’s fleck of dangling hope lost its grip and fell away. Yesterday in his office, he’d given her more reason to hope than she ever had before, and last night she’d fallen asleep with a sense of peace. Mattie’s announcement this morning had finally woken Jo up to the reality that she needed to leave; if she didn’t leave now, she’d be waiting on Mac forever. He obviously felt no tie to her. It was time to face the reality that she had not yet found her home.

Jo ate her breakfast quietly and then when everyone was done, she reached her hands across the table and placed them over Mattie’s, saying, “I need to leave. I need to go home.”

Mattie and Kirby both tried to talk her into postponing it, and Kirby even got crotchety with her, flatly accusing Jo of skulking shamefully away. “It’s mighty shady of you to run off while the boss is gone.”

Jo sharply reminded him that Mac knew she was leaving and told him that they had already talked, but he continued with his questioning.

“You’re telling me he knew you’d bought a ticket…”—he eyed her piercingly—“because I got the impression that he didn’t know you’d been to the train office.”

“Did you tell him about my plans?” Jo demanded.

“You bet I did. He asked me what we did in town yesterday, and I told him.”

That had surprised Jo. Mac knew she was leaving at the end of the week, and still he’d left the ranch on business. It had confirmed in her mind that she was making the right decision. Jo told Kirby, “I’m not running away or ‘skulking.’ I’m just ready to go home. Everything that needed to be said between Mac and me already has been. Obviously, he feels the same way, or he wouldn’t have left.”

Finally, Kirby had yielded and agreed to take her to town later today. She planned to stay at the hotel tonight and then leave tomorrow for home.

Jo made it back across the field after her brisk walk. She’d wanted to soak in the mountains, the beauty, and the sweet fresh smell of the land before saying her goodbyes. This place had stamped itself on her soul. Forevermore, the smell of a cedar bough—as well as a grain of wheat, a bale of hay, a cow, a garden, a tin of cookies, a glove—would link her to this ranch. All of them, each one, would conjure up a memory attached to her time here.

Jo went up the stairs to her room and started the melancholy chore of packing. When all her belongings were packed, she stepped across the room and opened the drawer by the side of her nightstand. She pulled out the work-worn leather gloves Mac had surprised her with all those months ago. Jo held them in her hands and rubbed each of the empty fingers with her hand. Her heart felt heavy and sick, and in a moment of weakness, she raised the gloves to her eyes and wept into them, her hot tears darkening the leather. After several minutes, Jo opened her trunk and pulled out the stationery she’d already packed. Using the bureau as a desk, she quickly wrote a note and sealed it in an envelope, scrawling Mac’s name on the cover. The top of the bureau was empty now, the wood shiny and smooth, with no baubles or perfume or photographs to clutter its space. Lovingly, Jo laid the gloves on top of its flat surface and then packed the rest of her belongings before leaving the room.

She sat with Leif in the parlor for a little while and visited with him. Remembering their conversation from earlier, he didn’t badger her, ridicule her, or press her to stay. He wanted her to find happiness. He wanted her to have a family of her own.

Finally, when Jo saw that he was growing tired and sore from his shoulder wound, she moved to sit by him on the couch. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. He rested his good arm on her back. “Leif…” she whimpered, “I’m going to miss you so.” Looking up at him, she joked, her eyes shiny with tears, “What will I do without you propositioning me?”

Grinning mischievously, Leif teased, “I’ll write you letters.” They both laughed together a bittersweet laugh full of memories and friendship and an understood goodbye.

“Thank you, Leif,” Jo said earnestly to him.

Leif shook his head softly and stroked her hair. “No…Jo.
Thank you
. We’ll miss you…
I’ll
miss you.”

Jo squeezed him lightly one more time, planted a kiss on his face, and left the room quickly, tears threatening all over again.

She found Kirby and Mattie on the front porch and chatted with them for a minute or two about writing letters back and forth. They asked Jo to come back in the spring and work on the ranch again, and she told them she’d think about it, but in her heart she knew she wouldn’t. She and Mattie embraced in a warm hug that neither wanted to part from, and then the moment Jo had been dreading was finally upon her.

Sam was sitting on the porch, dangling his legs off the side, oblivious to the heartache behind him. Jo stole up quietly and sank down beside him on the wood boards, dangling her legs over like he did. Oh, the ache choked her. It hollowed out her stomach. It beat at her heart. She pulled Sam onto her lap and buried her face in his tufts of downy hair, breathing him in, trying to lock the memory of his sweet boyish smell into her mind forever. She squished his hands and traced the pads of his fingers. She stared into his face and memorized every light line in his honey eyes while he watched her silently, too young to understand why Jo was sad, but old enough to be reverent of her mood.

“Sam,” she started carefully, “I have to go home.”

Sam grinned funnily at her. “You are home!”

Oh, that impaled her. Jo pulled him closer and squeezed him tighter, slamming her eyes shut to control the tears. “This was my home for the summer,” Jo said, pulling back and smiling lovingly at him. In her teacher’s voice she said, “But I have another home, with my brothers and sister and my mother.”

Sam just looked at her, unsure. “You have two homes,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, Sam, I suppose I do.”

Jo and Sam talked for a few more minutes about the pigs and how fat they were getting, about Charlie, and about Sam’s new book. Then unable to put it off any longer, Jo stood up from the porch and picked up Sam, hugging him tightly. She kissed his cheeks and forehead, held him some more, and then looked to Mattie for help. Gingerly, Mattie took Sam from Jo, kissed her on the cheek, and then went inside the house.

Jo climbed into the car, and Kirby slid in next to her and started the engine. As the tires left the ranch yard, she leaned her head against the window and watched the pasture blur past. With empty and aching arms, her cry broke on a loud sob, and she tried unsuccessfully to swallow back the tears. She was drowning, the tears flooding up inside her. Unable to restrain them any longer, they tore from her throat in a loud and ugly cry that startled Kirby. Jo faced the window and let the waves of scalding, horrible tears flow down her face, drenching her neck. They weren’t fragile and delicate, or sighed and repressed. They were physical, harsh, heartrending breaks. Jo’s shoulders convulsed, her head pounded, her eyes stung, and her nose ran. Her pain was messy, appalling, and raw—the kind a woman only allows herself to express in the dark privacy of her own room. Kirby stared at the road, clutching the wheel with a white knuckled grip, knowing that this drive to town wound haunt him for the rest of his life.

***

Kirby pulled the car around to the front of the train depot and rolled to a stop. Jo’s crying had subsided, but the aftereffects were obvious. Her eyes were puffy, her face was blotchy and tear-stained, and the whites of her eyes were red and irritated. Kirby leaned back in his seat and rested his elbow out of the window, waiting patiently for Jo to gather herself. She sighed heavily and flopped her hand across the cool leather seat between her and Kirby. The inclination to lean over and rest her hot face against the smooth chilly cushion tempted her. If she were alone, she would do it. Jo was appalled at her own emotion and mortified that Kirby had witnessed it all. She felt like she should apologize to him for the astonishing display but was unwilling to draw more attention to herself. Plus, what could Kirby say anyway? Either he would openly disapprove of her breakdown, or worse, he’d tell her it was fine, which they both knew was a lie.

Deciding she’d sat there long enough, Jo got on with the unpleasant task before her. Looking at Kirby, she said ruefully, “How do I look?”

Kirby glanced over at her, his brow wrinkling as he took in her face. “Tore up,” he replied bluntly.

Resigned, Jo stepped out of the car
.
There’s nothing I can do about it now
. A few minutes later, she climbed back into the car with her new ticket in hand and asked Kirby if he could take her to the hotel.

Jo checked in at the front desk with Kirby by her side and then with his help hauled her luggage into the lobby where it would stay until tomorrow morning when the hotel would deliver it to the train station. Boarding call for the train was at eleven o’clock sharp. With her bags unloaded and her plan arranged, the only thing left to do was say goodbye to Kirby. He was moseying in and out of the lobby furnishings, studying the paintings on the walls with his hand tucked in his pockets, as Jo approached.

“All squared away then?” he asked.

Jo nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I’m all set. Thank you for helping me, and I don’t just mean today.”

Kirby waved away her attempt to deepen their goodbye, preferring to remain emotionless in public. “No. I don’t want your thanks because I’m not happy to be doing it. I think this is a mistake, and if you had a lick of sense, you’d come home with me right now,” he chided her gruffly.

Jo shrugged her shoulders. “My ticket’s bought and paid for, and I don’t think the clerk would appreciate me switching it again. I actually do have one more favor to ask you. No, make that two.” Jo reached into her purse and pulled out the note she’d written to Mac and handed it out to Kirby. He eyed it cantankerously as if it were distasteful to him. “Please, Kirby, will you see that Mac gets this?”

Kirby shook his head side to side, disliking the idea of being her go between. Seeing Kirby’s reluctance, Jo opened up her purse and moved to put the note back in.

“Hold on…dang it…I’ll give it to him.” He snatched it from her hand and held it up. “If everything that needed to be said has been already, then why this, hmmm?” he
grumbled, aggravation clearly present in his tone.

Jo ignored his question, continuing on with her second request. “I told Charlie I wouldn’t leave without telling him goodbye.”

“I’ll drive on out to his place after I leave here and let him know you’re in town,” Kirby offered gruffly.

“Thank…”

Again Kirby raised his hand cutting her off. They stood awkwardly in the lobby for a few seconds until Kirby said, “Well, if I’m stopping at Charlie’s, I better get going.”

Jo walked with him out to his car. Standing next to it on the sidewalk, Kirby surprised Jo by flinging his arm around her back in a rough, embarrassed hug. In her ear he mumbled, “You take care and…try to come back and visit us…Mattie’s sure to miss you.”

Kirby had said “Mattie,” but Jo could feel he meant himself too. She wrapped both her arms around his neck and gave him a solid kiss on his stubbly cheek. “I’m going to miss you too,” she whispered.

Kirby patted her back and then, uncomfortable with such an open display of affection, gently pushed her away from him. “Well, I’m off,” he said, leaving Jo on the sidewalk as he stepped down into the street and hobbled to the door. Before opening it, he glanced at Jo one last time and nodded his head, his light blue eyes misty. Then he opened the door, started the car, and drove away.