Reclaiming His Past (20 page)

Bending slightly, Jessica placed Joy in her mother's arms. Suddenly cold, she chafed her arms in an effort to warm herself. The meager flames in the fireplace did little to chase away her chill. Every time she recalled their kiss, every time she allowed herself to wonder what a lifetime with Grant might be like, she pictured a faceless woman somewhere in their vast country who'd be crushed by his connection with her. The thought of Grant belonging to someone else filled Jessica with a sick sort of dread. It made her want to curl up in a lonely meadow somewhere and cry until there were no more tears left.

Pressing her hand to her forehead, she shut her eyes tight.

I love him.

“Do you have a headache?” Jane's soft query pierced her misery.

“No. I'm, uh, just tired.”

“Your voice is doing that dipping thing again.”

Straightening her shoulders, she bussed her twin's cheek and strode for the coat stand. She wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and wished for Grant's jacket suffused with his heat and scent.

“It's getting late. I'm going to head home and work on the baby blanket I didn't get to finish, since Joy decided to make an early appearance.”

“Good night, Jess.” Tom studied her thoughtfully. “See you tomorrow.”

“Maybe.”

She bid Clara good-night before slipping out the door into the chilly October evening. Far above, a fingernail moon floated in the blackness. Pinpricks of light winked like faraway candles.

Jane had been right. Doting on Joy hadn't been her only reason for spending so much time away. She hadn't seen Grant in four days, and she found she couldn't handle the sad emptiness cloaking the cabin. Funny, in the beginning, she couldn't have imagined feeling this way. She'd been desperate to be rid of him then.

In spite of all her hard-won lessons, contrary to her best intentions, she'd lost her heart to a stranger. The best and worst man she could've chosen. Grant Parker wasn't hers to love.

Chapter Twenty-One

S
itting in another borrowed room, on another bed that wasn't his own, Grant ran his fingers over the Bible's thin parchment. What was the illegible first name? Gregory? George? Gustave? Nothing sounded right. He'd gotten used to being called Grant.

Of course, this might not even be his. It could belong to the real Parker. The US marshal he couldn't stop thinking about. He'd recalled something from his childhood, a memory of himself playing with another boy, one with blond hair like his own. They'd been climbing trees. Laughing. Lobbing acorns at squirrels. Grant wondered if this boy was the same man in his other memory. The man wearing the silver star badge.

He'd been tempted to ride over to Jessica's right away and share this new revelation with her. He'd resisted. As much as he ached to see her, severing the unexpected bond between them was the wisest course of action. He was trouble. A hidden bomb that could explode at any time, scattering destruction in his wake.

Closing the heavy book, he left it on the bedside stand and crossed to the window. Situated on the upper level, this room had an unobstructed view of the O'Malleys' farm and the lane that led to town. A sizable garden stretched in long, even rows in the clearing. Bright orange pumpkins and assorted squash were nestled in the dirt. To his right, a massive barn was flanked by toolsheds and other outbuildings. One of those buildings housed Josh's furniture workshop. The pieces he built here were transported into town for display in his store. Josh and his wife, Kate, along with their children, lived behind this main house in a home of their own.

His gaze searched the tree line where the forest took over, snagging on the one-story cabin tucked beneath the branches of an ancient oak. Caleb's cabin. He lived there with his wife, Rebecca, and their young sons.

Surrounded by all these couples and their offspring, he couldn't help but think of Jessica. Alone. Unwed. Did she feel left out? Awkward about her single state? He hadn't heard anyone tease her about it, and he hoped he never did.

He'd stayed away from Jane and Tom's, even though he'd love to see the new baby girl. He was curious what she looked like. If she favored Jane, she also favored Jessica. And he'd get to see what a daughter of hers might look like.

Whenever Mary had spoken of baby Joy, Grant's mind had wandered down dangerous paths...like what a child of his and Jessica's might look like. Green eyes or blue? Blond hair or red? Strawberry blond? Creamy skin with freckles or tanned?

Would a little girl turn out to be feisty and independent like her mother?

His fist closed around the filmy white-and-blue curtain, crumpling the starched fabric.

Stop torturing yourself, Parker. Nothing good will come of such thoughts.

A knock reverberated on the open door. He turned to see Nathan in the hall. He and his wife, Sophie, had arrived shortly after lunch. Will had told Grant that he missed spending nights at Alice and Jessica's. Grant didn't mention he missed it, too.

“We're setting up for the husking bee. Feel up to joining us?”

“Explain to me what a husking bee is again?”

Nathan's silver gaze twinkled with mirth. “Neighbors and friends come together to shuck the mounds and mounds of corn. In addition to the work, there are games and food.”

“Not sure if I've ever attended one, but it sounds interesting.”

He trailed the other man to the stairs, thankful his wounds had healed and he wasn't relegated to spending his days in the sickbed. He'd go mad if that was the case.

The females were gathered in the kitchen. Delightful aromas filled every nook and cranny of the homey cabin. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Alice stepped through the main door, an unwieldy crate in her arms.

Nathan relieved her of her burden and headed for the kitchen. “I'll be in the barn,” he said over his shoulder.

“Be there in a minute,” Grant said before being wrapped in a motherly hug.

Alice pulled away, her gaze searching. “How are you? I've missed having you underfoot.”

“Everyone has made me feel welcome.” Even Caleb. A surprising development.

When she caught him looking behind her, she said, “Jessica won't be here until later. She's working on her orders for the mercantile.”

Nodding, he massaged his stiff neck muscles. “How does it feel to have another grandbaby?”

“Too wonderful to describe. You should go and see her.”

“Maybe I will.”

Her brow creased. “Have you had any news from Shane?”

“None, I'm afraid.”

The sheriff had come to see him at the livery yesterday. Somehow, he and the bank owner had managed to keep the existence of stolen jewels a secret. Shane had sent letters to authorities as far away as New York. No one could tell him anything about missing gems. Nor was anyone searching for a man of Grant's description. Together they'd penned a letter to the US Marshals' headquarters and were awaiting a response. Grant suspected the competent sheriff was growing frustrated with the lack of answers. This whole mystery identity case had him baffled.

Grant couldn't fully relax. He worked and lived with one eye on the horizon, constantly on alert, half expecting the authorities to swoop in and cuff him for some unknown crime. It was a difficult way to live. Peace wasn't achievable.

Alice patted his cheek. “It may not seem like it, but God's working behind the scenes on your behalf. He brought you here for a reason. You just don't know what it is yet.”

What reason? To learn some elusive lesson? To pay for a past sin?

To realize what it was to want something with every fiber of his being, only to be denied?

“He's not a cruel father,” he murmured, somehow convinced of that truth.

“No, He's not.”

A passage from the New Testament scrolled through his mind.
Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

“So my only choice is to trust Him and His plan.”

“No one said it would be easy. When the girls' pa died, I couldn't see how I would manage alone. Not only raising five daughters, but keeping the farm afloat. God gave me the strength and courage I needed to make it through each day. My family and friends helped. They prayed for me, listened to me whine, pitched in around the farm. It was a dark time. Eventually, though, I began to smile again.”

“I'm glad I had people like you and your daughter to support me.”

“What you don't know is what a blessing you've been to us.” Her smile fond, she bustled off to join the others. The conversation made him long to know his own mother. Was she kind and wise like Alice? Did she have a sense of humor? Was she a good cook? And what was his father like?

From his vantage point, he could see the long dining room table was already littered with serving dishes and bowls of assorted meats and vegetables. Will emerged from the kitchen, snagging a roll as he passed the table.

Grinning, he opened the door and spoke with a full mouth. “You coming?”

“Yeah, I'm coming.”

Following the young man out into the yard, he told himself to enjoy the present moment. No telling how much time he had left to spend with his new friends.

* * *

Jessica didn't arrive until the gathering was in full swing. Folks milled about her aunt and uncle's yard, balancing their plates and mason jars of tea or lemonade. A few had chosen to eat their supper on the porch steps. The watery yellow haze of dusk had descended, and her uncle and Josh were lighting the lamps sitting on makeshift tables. The cabin windows blazed with light.

Laughter competed with the hum of conversations.

Fiddling with the ends of her shawl, she searched out men with fair hair, hoping to see Grant and dreading it at the same time. She was the teeniest bit hurt that he hadn't bothered to stop by and say hello or ask after Jane and the baby. He would've gotten updates from her aunt or cousins. Still, would it have inconvenienced him that much to pay them a short visit?

A blond-haired woman broke from her group to pick her way across the yard. Jessica recognized her older sister at once. In their mountain town, only Megan had ringlets the color of moonlight combined with a peaches-and-cream complexion.

As she approached, her pretty, robin-egg-blue dress skimming the grass, she assessed Jessica's hair with a humorous glint in her eyes. “If I didn't know Jane had stayed home, I would've mistaken you for her. What made you arrange your hair that way?”

Self-conscious, Jessica touched a finger to the crown of her head. “I wanted a change. Does it look horrid?”

Megan made a circling motion with her finger. Jessica complied, hoping everyone else was too engrossed in their socializing to notice.

“Well?”

“It looks wonderful. You did a bang-up job.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, wishing she'd gone with her usual no-frills style. But no. She'd sought to impress Grant. In doing so, she'd courted questions.

She pressed her hand flat against her dress's bodice. Crafted of gossamery fabric that whispered across her skin, the deep green hue mimicked the forest canopy. The overskirt was made of two panels that draped from the waist in thick ruffles, revealing a black lace under-panel.

“I'm overdressed.” Most of the women wore dark skirts with blouses. “I should change.”

Megan grasped her wrist. “No, you aren't. And no, you shouldn't. You look stunning.”

“You're sure?”

“It's not like you to care. What's going on?”

When Jessica pressed her lips together and refused to answer, Megan surveyed the crowd. Stilling, she tipped her head close. “Is our local mystery man the one you intended to impress? If so, you succeeded.”

Jessica's heart hammering in her chest, she followed Megan's gaze to the crowd's periphery. The barn's massive doors had been thrown wide to reveal the mounds of corn waiting to be shucked. Grant stood slightly apart from her cousins Caleb and Nathan. He made no effort to hide the fact he was staring straight at her.

She waved. He raised his glass in response, but he didn't smile. That was unlike him.

Was he unhappy in her aunt and uncle's home?

Turning away, he said something to Caleb and stalked off toward the outbuildings. Caleb watched his retreat before continuing his conversation with Nathan.

Her spirits flagged. She could've been wearing a flour sack for all he'd noticed.

“Well.” Megan looked as confused as Jessica felt. “Have you and he had a tiff?”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“Caleb's coming over.”

Indeed, he was weaving through the clusters of people with single-minded determination. When he reached them, he arched a brow at her.

“What have you done to Grant?”

“Excuse me?”

“He was in a fine mood until you showed up.” He paused to rake her with his gaze. “You look pretty, by the way.”

“Um, thanks?”

Caleb folded his arms across his chest. “And another thing, the man isn't going to have enough funds to leave if he keeps buying your cakes.”

Megan looked intrigued. “She's only been stocking the mercantile since Monday. How many has he purchased?”

“After working a half day today, he stopped on the way home for his fifth.”

Jessica's jaw sagged. That was one a day since Tuesday.

“Ma's starting to worry about the quality of her cooking,” he tacked on. “Not to mention it's stirred up talk. I overheard Gerard and Wilton laughing about it moments ago. They're certain he's besotted with you.”

Her cheeks burned. “I didn't tell him to do that. I wouldn't.”

“So do us all a favor and give him one for free.”

Megan touched her arm. “Maybe you should go and talk to him.”

Jerking a nod, she gathered her skirts and swept around the nearest side of the cabin, eager to hide from prying eyes. Was everyone laughing at her? Did they think she put him up to it? Or worse, that Grant felt sorry for her?

The apple orchard stretching across gently undulating fields was washed in the final rosy hues of daylight. In the distance, the roof of Josh and Kate's home was visible through a break in the forest. Movement to her left alerted her to Grant's presence on her aunt's back porch.

Rising from his seat when he spotted her, he waited with his hands at his sides, his expression unreadable. As she neared, his eyes lingered on her upswept hair and exposed throat, darkening to blue black. Admiration shone there.

She drank in his appearance, the casual farmer's clothes not quite appropriate for his proud, military-like stance. She hadn't noticed that before. Maybe because he'd had a bum ankle and tender side. He'd favored those injuries. Now that he was healed, he stood with his shoulders back, spine straight, boots planted wide on the smooth planks.

If a mountain lion were to come charging through the fields behind her, he'd be prepared to fight it off.

In the low light, his hair didn't shine as usual. Washed and combed, it lay against his head, longer than when he'd arrived. A stray lock fell over his forehead, and she would've forfeited a week's earnings to experience its silky texture between her fingers once more. To be in his arms again.

Curling her arms about her middle, she expelled those thoughts with difficulty. She stopped on the opposite side of the porch railing. There was no step up, so they were on eye level.

“Contrary to what you might think, I don't want your pity,” she bit out.

He gripped the railing's top edge and leaned over it, his face close, his expression defiant. “Why would I pity you?”

“Everyone's talking about how you've gone to the mercantile every day this week and bought one of my cakes.”