Reclaiming His Past (13 page)

“We asked around. Evan spoke with the sheriff and reverend. No one has heard of him.”

Grant would be disappointed. “It was worth a try.”

Moving to stand upstream, Juliana studied her closely. “Caleb introduced us to him. He's a polite man. Ma must think highly of him to condone this trip.”

“You know how she feels about those less fortunate.”

As thrilled as Jessica was to see her big sister, if Juliana warned her off Grant, she was likely to upend the contents of the canteen over her head.

“It says something about your opinion that you'd agree.”

Twisting on the lid, she couldn't rein in her testiness. “What are you getting at, Jules?”

“Nothing. Just that it's wonderful of you to help someone in his position.”

“Wonderful?”

Moving to take the filled containers, Juliana shot her a quizzical gaze. “What were you expecting me to say?”

“Oh, the same as almost everyone else in this family. That I should be careful not to fall for his charms. They act like I'm the biggest featherhead in east Tennessee. Like I don't have a single functioning brain cell. I'm not the only O'Malley to make a grave error in judgment.”

Clueing in on her disgust, Juliana nodded her understanding. They strolled toward the clearing in the woods where most of the campers had chosen to spend the weekend.

“Do you know how many letters I've received these past months?” Juliana said. “Not only from Ma and Jane, but Megan, Aunt Mary, even Nicole, and you know how fond she is of writing.” She turned her green eyes on Jessica. “They've had to stand by and watch you suffer because you insisted on shouldering your grief alone. They feel helpless. Can you blame them for wanting to see you happy again?”

Jessica wasn't sure she deserved to be happy. “No, of course not.”

They reached their site and found Will assembling firewood and Caleb assisting Evan to erect a tent. All around them, the bustle of activity echoed through the forest. Children chased each other through the grass, weaving in and out of the chaos. Mothers called out warnings to be careful. Someone nearby played a jaunty harmonica tune.

Grant emerged from his tent balancing a crate against his uninjured side. He was wearing a borrowed gun belt about his waist, and the six-shooter she'd loaned him nestled in a holster on his left hip. Seeing Juliana and Jessica together, he stopped short. Shook his head and smiled. “No one could deny your heritage. What I don't get is where Nicole fits in.”

Juliana laughed. “He hasn't met Megan yet, has he?”

“No.” With her blond hair and blue eyes, Megan took after their mother's people. “Nicole is the spitting image of our paternal grandmother.”

“That explains things. I guess.” His gaze bounced between them. “Where do the red hair and freckles come from, then?”

“Both our father and grandfather were full-blood Irish,” Jessica answered, adding the canteens to the supply pile.

“While our ma's side is English,” Juliana supplied.

“Nature's funny like that.” Grant's focus turned inward even as he scoured the expansive clearing, as if waiting for someone to pop over, shake his hand and supply all the answers he was seeking. The discussion about their heritage had to have sparked questions about his own.

“Jess, I'm going to start unpacking the supper supplies. We've got loads to share. You know what Evan's appetite is like.”

“I heard that,” he called.

Jessica smiled, meeting her brother-in-law's wink and wave as he fit the canvas over the poles. Evan hadn't changed in the years since he'd married her sister. As handsome and intense as ever, with his jet-black hair and blue eyes, he loved Juliana to distraction.

“We'll pool our resources,” Jessica said.

“Good idea.”

She turned to Grant, dreading telling him that Juliana and Evan hadn't discovered anything useful. He was counting on someone here recognizing him. What happened if someone did and the answers they supplied weren't what any of them wanted?

Chapter Thirteen

J
essica was basking in the fire's warmth, listening as Juliana and Evan caught everyone up on recent events in Cades Cove, when Grant sank onto the log beside her. His closeness warmed her more effectively than the nearby flames. The sun had set a while ago, but the mountainside was lit up with all the campfires.

He pointed to her bowl of pinto beans, into which she'd crumbled corn bread and topped it with sauerkraut. “You going to eat that?”

“I was planning to. Why?”

“Doesn't look all that appetizing.”

She jabbed her fork in the air. “You worry about your own food, mister.”

“If you insist.” He shrugged. “I just thought you might like to add some zest to it.”

Angling her knees toward his, she held the warm bowl aloft. “I forgot my Tabasco sauce, and Juliana doesn't use it.”

“
You
may have forgotten it.” The firelight flickered in his eyes. His hair flopped onto his forehead in that rakish way she found appealing. “I didn't.”

He reached behind the log and produced the skinny bottle, giving it a little shake right in front of her nose.

“You brought it?” His thoughtfulness touched her.

When she reached out, Grant hid it behind his back, his playful mood palpable. “I sense that I have a bit of bargaining power right now.”

“Grant Parker, you give me that bottle this instant.”

Stroking the short, pale bristles covering his chin, he mused, “What should I ask for, I wonder.”

“No bottle, no cookies.” She smirked.

He considered her with his head tilted to one side. “What kind of cookies?”

“Oatmeal raisin. Bigger than your fist.”

“I forfeit.” He held out the Tabasco, and she grabbed it happily, dousing her meal while he made a grunt of mock disgust.

Picking his own bowl off the ground, he dug in with gusto. It had been a long, grueling day of travel and work to get their site set up. He was no doubt famished, not to mention exhausted. She worried he'd demand too much of himself.

He bumped her shoulder with his. “Your sister is nice.”

Jessica shot him a sideways glance. “Are you insinuating I'm not?”

“
Nice
isn't a word I'd apply to you, no.”

She socked him in the arm. A chuckle rumbling through his chest, he rubbed the spot. “Ouch, lady. See what I mean?”

The conversation across from them had ceased. Jessica blushed when she realized the others were observing them with keen interest. Juliana and Evan, their chairs pulled close together, were flanked by Will and Caleb.

“Grant's right.” Will spoke with a full mouth. “You don't have the reputation as the nice O'Malley sister.”

Jessica's jaw sagged. “Are you serious? After all the cake and pie I've plied you with?”

He laughed, and Caleb joined in. A shame his wife, Rebecca, couldn't come. Baby Noah had a cough, and they didn't think it wise for him to travel.

Juliana stuck up for her. Sort of. “Jessica can be accommodating when she puts a mind to.”

“I'm beginning to feel offended.”

Grant remained silent beside her, absorbing every word, looking entertained.

Caleb leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Juliana, tell Parker about Jessica and old man Brantley.”

Juliana obliged, recounting how, as a determined nine-year-old, Jessica had insisted on visiting Zeb Brantley every day for a month. Believing his grumpy attitude stemmed from loneliness, she'd taken her fiddle and played for him.

“Alice mentioned you haven't played in a long time,” Grant said, perplexed. “Why did you stop?”

“I don't know. Too busy, I guess.”

He studied her, clearly not buying her excuse. She slid her glance away.

“At that point in time, she'd only just started to learn to play.” Juliana smiled, green eyes twinkling. “She wasn't what you'd call talented.”

Caleb guffawed. “It sounded like a cat screeching for its mate.”

Will winced. “Poor Zeb.”

“So I'm guessing his mood didn't improve?” Grant's gaze locked with hers. Humor mingled with admiration.

Her stomach did a little flip. “After a month, he finally asked me to leave the fiddle at home and read to him instead.”

“She visited him once or twice a week for over a year,” Juliana said, the fondness in her tone unmistakable.

“And then he died.” A lump formed in her throat. It had been ages since she'd thought of the gentle man who'd been like a substitute grandfather.

“Do you remember that bird she saved?” Caleb broke the silence. “Its wing was broken, right?”

Juliana launched into another story of Jessica's antics. Grant lapped it all up. By the time they'd finished supper, she was sick to death of hearing about herself.

“Stop.” She dumped out her cold coffee. “I think you've entertained Grant with enough stories to last a lifetime.”

“I'm not bored,” he protested.

“I am.”

“Then let's play some music.”

“What are you talking about?”

“While packing the guitar, I grabbed your fiddle on a whim. I knew we'd have some free time on our hands, and what goes better with a warm fire on a cool night than music?”

“That was presumptuous of you.”

“Yes, it was,” he agreed without apology. “But I don't remember playing with anyone else, and I'd like to see how well it works.”

“Come on, cuz,” Caleb drawled, depositing his empty plate in the grass beneath his chair. “Just a few songs.”

The others waited for her decision. Her twin maintained that Jessica had been blessed with courage and boldness. Jane had aspired to those attributes, and that was why she'd decided to investigate Lee herself. Since his death, Jessica hadn't felt brave. She'd retreated inside her dreadful isolation. She'd allowed her circumstances to steal joy from her life. Steal her love of music and the comfort she derived from it.

“I'm rusty,” she warned.

A slow, triumphant grin curved his mouth. “I have no memories of playing before waking up on your property, so we're even.”

Striding to his tent, he retrieved their instruments, a new energy humming in him. Matching anticipation leaped to life inside Jessica, and her fingers itched to hold her bow again. To draw it across the strings and wait for the resulting notes to blend in a familiar tune.

Grant handed her the case with a flourish. Settling beside her, he took out her pa's guitar and situated it on his lap. From Juliana's expression, Jessica knew her sister had recognized it.

Perceptive as always, Grant paused and directed his comment to Juliana. “If this is awkward for you, I won't play.”

At Evan's questioning glance, Juliana explained. To Grant, she said, “I'm glad it's being put to use. Pa would be, too.”

Evan urged her close to his side and pressed a kiss against her temple. Smiling, Juliana snuggled in close and splayed her hand on his chest, the wedding band on her left hand winking. Caleb sat sprawled in his chair, legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Will pulled a blade of grass through his teeth, knees bouncing.

Nodding reverently, Grant strummed a few notes while Jessica readied her instrument. She held the fiddle across her lap like a guitar and carefully plucked each string. Hearing that they were in tune, she picked up the rosin cake and rubbed it over the bow hair so that it would better grip the strings.

“What do you want to try first?” he asked.

“Do you know any hymns?”

“How about ‘Amazing Grace'?”

It took them a few minutes to find their stride. He was patient, strumming softly, allowing her to reacquaint herself with her fiddle and the movements. The familiar notes came flooding back, as did the rush of contentment, and she found herself smiling like a fool. They concentrated on hymns at first, switching to folk songs later. Grant played in a way that allowed her to shine, showcasing her instrument's capabilities. For their last song, she chose one that would put the emphasis on his abilities. There were several spots where she'd lift her bow from the strings and pluck them softly as he continued to play. As they played together, an unexplainable emotional connection wove through the music and joined them in complete harmony.

When they'd finished, and not only their group but the surrounding campers were clapping and whistling, Grant's eyes shone with pleasure. Jessica laughed a little, her own spirits zinging with delight.

“What a treat,” Juliana exclaimed. “I hope you'll play again before we leave.”

Grant looked to Jessica, a hint of vulnerability in him. “I'd like that.”

Jessica nodded, her heart dangerously soft and impressionable. “Me, too.” When Juliana started stacking the soiled dishes, Jessica put out a hand. “I'll take care of those.”

“We can do it together.”

“No. You and Evan are rarely alone. Take advantage of your time together. Go take a stroll.”

Disquiet flared briefly in Juliana's eyes before Evan caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Jess is right. You deserve a break.” Motioning to the tree line, he said, “Let's walk.”

Her manner only slightly subdued, Juliana agreed. Jessica watched the pair weave their way through the throng, confusion surging. It appeared something was bothering her sister. But what?

Grant returned from his tent then, scattering her thoughts. “I'll take the basin.”

She resisted. “It's heavy.”

“That's why I'm going to carry it.”

“And what about your wound?” She pitched her voice low, positive he didn't want his physical condition discussed in front of the others.

His stare was unwavering. “It's fine.”

All too familiar with his obstinate nature, she allowed him to take it, gathering wash towels, soap and a lantern. They weren't the first ones at the stream. The points of light up and down the hillside were an enchanting sight, as was the trickling water glittering like golden fireworks.

They found a semiprivate spot and got to work.

“You're one fortunate lady, you know that?” He swiped a towel over the dish she'd scrubbed clean. “You've got roots. Stories to remind you of how you became the person you are today.”

Jessica hadn't taken stock of God's blessings in her life. She'd been too busy concentrating on the negatives. Once again, Grant's presence had pointed to a deficiency in her life.
I'm sorry, God. Help me appreciate all the ways You provide and care for me.

The soap slippery in her hand, she paused to study Grant's profile.
And please, Father, help him. Guide him to the answers he deserves.

* * *

Shortly before dawn, Jessica was startled awake. She stared at the canvas ceiling and blinked the bleariness from her vision. Objects in her tent gradually took shape in the lingering gloom. She lay still, the air cool on her face, her ears straining for clues. But there was nothing beyond the usual hushed forest sounds.

Crawling from beneath her covers, she lifted the flaps and peered out. If there was a bear out there scavenging for food, she needed to know about it. Being surprised in her bed by a wild animal wasn't how she meant to pass the weekend. In the midst of their tent circle, the fire's disintegrating logs glowed orange. High above the tree canopy, countless stars winked in the inky expanse.

A guttural cry shredded the hush blanketing the campers. Jessica's head whipped to the right. That had come from Grant's tent, situated several feet from hers. Will's was on her left side. Caleb's beside his. Evan and Juliana were sleeping opposite, yards away from the fire.

It came again, followed this time by an emphatic, slightly frantic “
No
.” There was no discernible movement inside.
He's dreaming.

Pulling her housecoat lapels together at the throat, she didn't stop to put on boots before hurrying over. The dew-moistened grass soaked through her stockings. Crouching at the opening, she hesitated, darting a quick glance around. The assumptions folks would make about this had her heart knocking furiously against her rib cage.

She couldn't go inside. What would Grant think if he woke to find her in his tent, hovering over him in the dead of night? Her mouth went dry. Lifting the flaps, she squinted into the darkness, feeling as if she were invading his privacy. He tossed and turned on the pallet. More indecipherable words slipped out. Snagging his ankle, she jostled it.

“Grant,” she hissed. “Wake up.”

He didn't respond. Balancing her weight on one hand, she leaned farther in and shook harder. “Grant!”

“Huh—” He bolted to sitting, his forehead ramming into hers.

“Ouch!” Pain registered as hands clamped onto her shoulders.

“Jessica?”
His voice was like a gunshot in the dark stillness. She covered his mouth.

“Shh!” she whisper-shouted. “You don't want to wake the entire camp, do you?”

He went very still. She became aware of several things at once. His undershirt-clad chest rising and falling. The weight and warmth of his hands. His spruce and leather scent permeating the space. And his face, wreathed in shadows, was but a breath away. Against her palm, his lips were incredibly soft.

Slowly, reluctantly, she let it fall to her lap.

“Why are you here?” His sleep-ravaged voice sounded almost angry.

“You were dreaming. Not the good kind.”

“What?”

Suddenly, being this close to him wasn't such a good idea. “I'll explain out there.”

Scrambling backward, she stood and hugged her housecoat more tightly about her.

He emerged a minute later and loomed close. “What's going on?”

“I was dead asleep when I awoke to the sound of you talking in your sleep, so I came to check on you.”