Stealing Jake (18 page)

Mary sighed and rolled over on her back. Livy stared at Mary’s sweet, innocent profile in the pale moonlight. Mary wouldn’t have lasted a week on the streets of Chicago.

She squeezed her eyes shut.
Oh, Lord, help me. Help me forget.
Tears sprang to the surface, and she blinked them back
.

No, Lord, I didn’t mean it. I don’t ever want to forget. Help me remember so I can show girls like my sister there is a better way, that You stand with open arms, ready to forgive and forget, to offer a new and better life.

Livy’s heart pounded, and she breathed deep to calm herself. A pang of sorrow hit her. If they’d only met Mrs. Brooks years earlier. Mrs. Brooks would have taught Katie that succumbing to the pleadings of her beau would be her undoing.

Katie had been wrong. Like so many young girls before her. Livy didn’t want to see more girls fall into that trap. If what she’d learned on the streets of Chicago helped her save ten girls, five, or even one, Katie wouldn’t have died in vain.

And Livy was desperate to not let that happen.

Even if it meant staying away from Jake and the feelings he stirred within her. She’d do it if it killed her. She’d live her life at the orphanage, rescuing boys and girls thrown to the streets like yesterday’s garbage, showing them Christ’s love and His plan for their lives.

* * *

Livy skirted the gathering of men around the potbellied stove, disappointed not to see Jake among them. She lifted her chin and tamped down the feeling. She’d made a promise to herself last night to keep doing the work she felt called to do.

And a pair of twinkling green eyes and a crooked smile would not sway her from her purpose.

She didn’t see McIver, so she took the time to look at the cloth while she waited. She fingered a piece of dark-brown wool, daydreaming of the warm clothes she could make for the children if she had the funds to buy the material. She’d never match Mrs. Brooks’s skills as a seamstress, but she’d learned to sew tolerably well. Her fingers stilled when someone mentioned Jake’s name. The storyteller’s voice, tinged with excitement, wafted toward her.

“I was right there in Lucky’s—saw it with my own eyes. The gambler—somebody said he works in the Copper Penny mine—drew a bead on Jake, but Jake pushed young Will out of the way and dove for cover.”

Livy’s heart lurched in her chest. She grasped the shelf full of cloth, willing her head to stop spinning.

A shoot-out? No. Not Jake.

She forced her numb legs to move, to carry her toward the front of the store. She had to know if—

“If it hadn’t been for Lucky’s shotgun, we’d probably be burying ol’ Jake today.”

Livy stopped, hand clutched against her pounding heart. He was alive. She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thankfulness.

A lifetime passed before her shaking limbs gathered strength again.

Someone almost shot Jake? When? It must have happened last night after he’d come by the orphanage. She’d determined not to talk to him or to even think about him. If she ignored him, then he’d lose interest in her, and . . . well, maybe he’d court Lavinia MacKinnion.

The thought made her heart ache even more.

She didn’t
want
him to court Lavinia MacKinnion. But on the other hand, she didn’t want him to court her either.

Did she?

“May I help you, ma’am?” Mr. McIver’s younger son, Abner, looked like he’d lost his best friend.

Livy stared back, struggling to remember what she’d come to town for. Gathering her wits, she gave him her order. Without a word, he collected the items and wrapped them up, and she realized why he looked so sad. The man had said Will was involved in the trouble last night.

She touched the boy’s arm. “Is Will all right?”

“Yes, ma’am. The deputy brought him home early this morning.” Tears filled the boy’s eyes, and he blinked, his face crumpling.

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled before bolting for the storeroom.

She left McIver’s, her heart heavy. What had happened last night? Abner couldn’t—or wouldn’t—tell her anything. Feeble sunlight reflected off the windows of the jail across the street. Would Jake be there or at the boardinghouse? Should she check on him? She hesitated, her heart and head warring with each other.

Her head won, and she pulled her coat tight against the chill and headed toward the orphanage, her steps slow. He’d be fine. He had his mother and Miss Nellie from the boardinghouse to look after him.

And . . . and Lavinia.

She made it to the millinery shop before her heart pulled rank. She’d just make sure he was all right; then she’d go home. That was it. Nothing more. It was the Christian thing to do after all. And besides, Mrs. Brooks and the children would worry when they heard. She could give a more accurate report on his condition if she’d seen him firsthand.

As she neared the jail, her heart lodged in her throat, and her palms grew sweaty. And it didn’t have a thing to do with Jake. She’d never entered a police station willingly. She almost backed out on the spot, but what did she have to fear? She wanted to check on Jake, not turn herself in. Besides, she’d been washed clean of her past sins. She took a deep breath, reached out, and touched the knob. Best get it over with.

The room lay quiet and empty, so unlike the stations in Chicago. They’d been filled to the gills every time she’d been hauled inside, kicking and screaming. Chestnut’s jail, with its sparkling windows and clean-swept floors, didn’t resemble any she’d seen in Chicago. She moved to stand in the center of the room, pivoting in place.

Two battered desks, both littered with papers and wanted posters, sat across from each other with a half-open door between them leading to the back room. Disappointed not to find Jake, she turned to go but froze when a groan came from the back.

She eased toward the door and peered around it. As she’d suspected, all the cell doors stood ajar, and like the front, the barred cubicles were neat and tidy, the cots made. A soft snoring sounded to her left and she almost jumped out of her skin. Her gaze darted to the corner behind the door, housing a cot.

And Jake.

He lay on his side, head pillowed in the crook of his arm. Dark lashes curved against his cheekbones, and his lips parted slightly in sleep. He breathed in a deep, shuddering breath. Her heart turned over. He’d probably been up all night patrolling the streets of Chestnut while she slept—or at least tried to.

She sighed. She’d never cared if a copper might be tired from his job or in danger. She’d never pondered what they did when they weren’t working. Staying out of their way kept her more than occupied. There’d been way too many bad apples to trust the few good that were thrown in. But she’d learned some law officers were cut from a different cloth.

Like Jake.

When Jesus had filled her heart, He had helped her see the good in people where she’d never looked for it before. Back then, she’d been suspicious of Mrs. Brooks’s motives for helping her, but by the time she’d recovered enough to leave, she realized the woman was as good as her word, and she’d stayed. The girl she’d been two years ago wouldn’t have trusted Jake’s mother or Mrs. Warren or their reasons for being kind and generous.

But now she understood. Their actions mirrored Christ in their lives. They could do nothing else but be mothers to the motherless and fathers to the fatherless, much the same way Jesus had reached out to everyone He came into contact with.

Her gaze caressed Jake’s face one last time. She wouldn’t wake him. That would be too awkward. She only wanted to make sure he hadn’t been hurt, and he looked fine. She didn’t even know why she’d worried. If he’d been in grave danger, she would have heard at the mercantile. She turned to go and the hem of her cloak snagged on a mop propped against the wall. It clattered to the floor, making enough noise to wake the dead.

Or at least Jake.

He jumped to his feet like he’d been shot out of a cannon, his eyes wide. His hand slapped his empty holster for his gun.

Livy giggled. She couldn’t help it. She covered her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to stop her laugher. “I’m sorry. I came by to see you, and you were asleep. Then . . .” She trailed off, motioning at the mop. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s all right.” Jake raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “I dozed off for a bit.”

He looked all male with his dark hair mussed and his eyes heavy from sleep. Livy’s fingers itched to smooth the wayward strands into place. She swallowed and edged toward the door, reining in her thoughts and her runaway heart.

She needed to leave. Now.

“What did you want to see me about?” Jake cocked his head to one side and gave her a puzzled frown.

“Oh. That.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Coming to check on him had been a dim-witted idea, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She’d given in to worry, and now she’d gotten herself into a pickle. How could she explain?

He took a step toward her, all hint of sleep gone. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” She bit her lip, looked away, then glanced back at him. The best thing would be to spit it out. “I heard over at the mercantile that you’d been shot at last night, and I was . . . uh . . . worried.”

“You were worried?” A slow grin spread across his face. He narrowed the gap between them, a teasing look in his eyes. “About me?”

“A little.” She sidestepped and waved a hand in dismissal. “You know, as a friend.”

“A friend?” He lifted a brow.

“Yes, a friend.”

He moved closer, so close she could see the gold flecks in his green eyes. The teasing look on his face disappeared as his gaze flickered to her lips. “Livy, I’m not sure I want to be your friend.” His voice sounded low and husky.

She wanted to turn and run but felt she couldn’t move if her life depended on it. “Well, I—”

He reached out and pulled her toward him, lowering his face to hers. His lips covered hers, and she drank in the taste of his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer before slanting his lips against hers, deepening the kiss. As if of their own volition, her arms twined themselves around his neck and pulled him closer still. He pulled back and kissed the corner of her mouth, then lifted his head, his hooded gaze moving over her face.

“Just friends?” he whispered, his breathing as ragged as hers.

Tears sprang to Livy’s eyes, and she put a trembling hand to his lips. “Just friends.”

Then she disentangled herself, turned, and ran from the jail, struggling to keep the gathering tears from falling.

Chapter Fourteen

Livy lost the battle long before she reached the orphanage. She cut through the alley behind Miss Janie and Miss Maisie’s shop, hoping to avoid questions if the two elderly ladies saw her.

She slowed when she reached the orphanage. She never planned to fall in love, ever. She placed a hand on her quivering stomach. Jake would want children, wouldn’t he? She’d seen him with Gracie and his brother and sisters. He’d want a houseful. Images of her sister pleading with her to do something swam before her eyes. She just couldn’t. She wasn’t brave enough.

No matter what she felt for Jake Russell.

Slipping into the lean-to attached to the kitchen, Livy smoothed her skirt and patted her hair. Long before she wanted to, she went inside.

Mrs. Brooks smiled at her from the stove. “I was beginning to worry.”

Livy took off her coat and her gloves and tried not to look at the older woman.

“Livy?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Her voice cracked, the result of her tears.

“Did you bring the nutmeg and salt?”

Livy’s face burned, and fresh tears sprouted. “Oh, I’m sorry. I left it in the lean-to.” She darted outside and retrieved the package. How could she have been so careless to leave it outside? Mrs. Brooks would know something was wrong for sure. She trudged back inside and handed the parcel over.

Mrs. Brooks dried her hands, tilted Livy’s chin up, and searched her eyes. Concern filled her face. “You’ve been crying. What is it?” Her gaze hardened and she looked like a mother hen about to fly into a rage. “Is it that MacKinnion woman again? What’s she gone and done now?”

“No, it’s not her.” Livy shook her head.

“Then what is it?”

“I—it’s Jake.” Tears fell from her eyes. “He almost got shot last night.”

“Oh no. Is he all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Livy swiped at the tears that refused to stop, no matter how hard she willed them to. Mrs. Brooks took Livy in her arms and let her cry. When she could cry no more, the woman held her at arm’s length and searched her face. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Livy pulled away and folded her arms tight against her stomach. “I think he cares for me, but . . .”

“But what?”

“He won’t feel the same when he finds out about my past.”

And did she want him to care? No, because she could never return his feelings. Not after what happened to Katie. If Jake stayed out of her life, she could forget about him, and life would be so much simpler.

Wouldn’t it?

“Oh, Livy, I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. As he gets to know you, he’ll see that you’re not the same girl you were in Chicago.” A slight smile creased Mrs. Brooks’s face. “Even I can attest to that. You care for him, too, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I can’t ever be a—a wife.” Livy’s heart pounded. “I—I just can’t.”

“Because of what happened to your sister and the babe?”

Livy nodded, unable to talk past the lump in her throat. Mrs. Brooks didn’t know the full story. Nobody did. Livy broke out in a cold sweat. How long had Katie suffered? Livy wasn’t even sure herself. She’d blocked it out to save her sanity.

“Livy, my mother died in childbirth when I was a girl, probably about the same age you were when your sister passed. I know the circumstances weren’t the same, but for a long, long time, I didn’t want to marry and have children. Then I met my dear Horace. God never saw fit to give us children of our own, but I wanted them. We both did. As you get to know Jake, and fall in love with him, God willing, you’ll feel the same.”