The Widower's Wife (23 page)

“I love you, Jilly. Thank you for letting me come and visit you. It’s been a dream!”

“I love you too, Bethy. Now get,” Jillian teased.

Despite what she said about needing her sleep, Jillian lay awake for a long time. She was genuinely happy for Marcus and Bethany. They were both wonderful people and deserved all the happiness life could afford. But her thoughts kept turning back to Dalton and herself. She thought about the times he had kissed her, how he’d caused her whole body to tremble with exhilaration. It had been so long since they had had any physical contact at all. Even when he helped her into or out of the wagon, he let go of her hand as quickly as possible. She wanted to be close to him, wanted him to hold her like he had before. Sighing deeply, she rolled onto her side and held her pillow in her arms. Would they ever have their chance at happiness?

“I love you, Dalton.” she whispered to no one. At last, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Jillian held on tightly, not wanting to let go. She had started crying the moment she woke up and realized what day it was. She could feel her brother’s heart beating beneath his lapel. Marcus’s checkered shirt and denims had been replaced by his usual clothing. Bethany stood off to the side. They had said their tear-filled good-byes earlier, before Marcus arrived. Now she was having a hard time letting her beloved brother go. She knew she was being selfish by wanting him to stay—Mother and Father were surely missing him too—but she didn’t know when she would ever see him again. It was he who finally broke their embrace. Marcus put his hand under her chin, lifted her face up, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You’re going to cause a flood with all those tears, and then you’ll have Dalton upset with me. First a fire, then a flood!” he teased.

“Marcus, don’t try to make me smile. I don’t want to today. You’re both leaving, and I can see no earthly reason to be happy,” she complained.

“Oh, but you’re wrong, dearest sister of mine. There’s always a reason to be happy, even in good-byes. If there were no good-byes, then there would be no hellos. You see?” He smiled at her. “Besides, I don’t want to remember a frown on your face as I ride away. I might think you don’t like me anymore.” Marcus pretended to pout.

Jillian whimpered, “You know that’s not true.”

“Well then, give me a smile so I can remember my beautiful sister just as she ought to look,” he coaxed.

“I just wish we had more time! I wish I could ride to the station with you both, but I can’t leave Brenn.” The poor little boy had come down with stomach pains in the night. He seemed so little and helpless that she couldn’t bring herself to leave him and she didn’t want to risk having Aunt Betty or Uncle Ned catching anything from him either, so Dalton was going to take them to the station alone. They also wouldn’t have to borrow the Flannigans’ wagon this way. She knew it would be for the best, but it was still difficult.

They all walked down the porch steps and over to the wagon. Jenny and Lisa were crying now too. Marcus opted to forgo the proper kisses reserved for ladies and gave them both hugs and kisses on the cheek instead. They were now extremely fond of Marcus and would miss him terribly. Jillian gave Bethany one last hug, and before letting her go, she whispered in her ear, “As soon as he proposes, you be sure to send me a telegram right away.”

Bethany blushed deeply. Marcus gave his sister a quizzical look before stepping past her to help Bethany into the wagon. Jillian winked at him, trying to tease him a little. When Bethany was seated, Marcus walked back over to Jillian and took her into one final embrace.

“Are you telling secrets about me, Little Sis?” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

“No secrets, dear brother, only predictions.” This made him raise an eyebrow, and she smiled widely at him. He hopped onto the wagon seat with Bethany and Dalton.

“Now, that’s the look I want to remember,” he declared.

Dalton flicked the reins, clucked to the horses, slowly turned the wagon around, and headed down the road away from the house.

Jillian watched as three of the most important people in the world to her rode away. She turned quickly and dismally gathered the children back into the house.

Jillian looked out the window yet again. It was late, and she was worried. Marcus and Bethany’s train didn’t come through until five-thirty, so she knew Dalton would get home late, but it was already after nine, and he should have been home over an hour ago.

She went to check on the children. Lisa and Brenn were sleeping soundly, but she knew Jenny would still be awake. The two of them had spent the evening completing the last of her makeup work, and then they took turns reading from the book of fairy tales. By working together each evening, Jenny had not only caught up but was excelling in her studies. Earlier that evening, Jenny had been concerned when her father failed to return, especially because Dalton had promised to read to her when he got back. Jillian knocked lightly on the door to Jenny’s room and peeked inside. Jenny was sitting up in her bed with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her head was down, so she guessed the girl was still worried about her father. Jillian walked over and sat next to her on the bed.

“Hello, sweetie. Are you ready to go to sleep now?” Jenny looked up, and Jillian could see the tears welling up in her eyes. Jillian gathered her in her arms. “There now, don’t cry. Everything is fine. Your father has been delayed is all. He’ll be home soon enough.” Jillian tried to soothe Jenny’s worries, even though her own were growing with every passing minute. Finally, Jenny lay down and fell asleep, and Jillian tiptoed quietly from the room.

Immediately she looked out the window again. It was almost ten o’clock. Jillian grabbed a quilt from the chair and went to the hook by the door. Reaching up, she grabbed Dalton’s coat, slipping her arms into it as she opened the door and went out. She shivered briefly. The nights were getting cooler now. Jillian sat down on the porch steps, leaned against the railing post, and laid the quilt over her lap.

“Where are you, Dalton?” she whispered into the night air. She leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees, and covered her face with the sleeves of his coat to keep her nose warm. She breathed in deeply , inhaling his familiar scent.

Before long, Jillian found herself fighting sleep. She didn’t want to go back inside until Dalton was safely home, so she took the quilt from her lap, tucked it under her head, and lay down on the porch steps, deciding to rest her eyes for just a minute or two.

Dalton wearily drove the wagon past the gate and made his way toward the house. Old Decker’s bridle lay on the bed of the wagon along with his rifle. What had started out to be a very simple trip to the train station had turned into a long and tedious ordeal.

Dalton delivered Marcus and Bethany at the station with plenty of time to make their train. He waited there until the train was out of sight, and then wasted no time in heading back home. When he was about a third of the way there, he felt the wagon drift to the side of the road. He had been lost in his thoughts again, something that had been happening often lately, and had allowed the reins to go slack. Old Decker, who seemed to be getting lazier by the day, had decided that since he hadn’t felt a tug on the reins for a long while, he would try his luck at grazing on the tall grasses along the side of the road. Dalton quickly pulled the reins tight to the left in order to center the wagon on the road again, but not before Decker’s right front leg fell into a deep gopher hole. The wagon jerked to the side as the horse fell lame. Dalton heard the front wheel crack.

Dalton unhitched both horses, led Riley to the back of the wagon, and tied him up. Retrieving his rifle from under the wagon seat, he walked back around to where Old Decker lay in obvious pain.

With a heartfelt sigh of grief, he lifted his rifle to his shoulder. Killing his own horse was one of the most difficult things a man had to face. A man got quite attached to his livestock out on the frontier, and Old Decker had been a good old horse, although somewhat of a rascal at times. He was saddened to see him have to go this way. Laurellyn always had a soft spot for him, especially since he hadn’t been treated well by the gambler who had sold the horse to his father. The children were sure to miss him too.

“Good-bye, old friend,” Dalton murmured softly. He took careful aim, slowly pulled the trigger, and in an instant, Old Decker was gone.

After dragging his dead horse’s body from the road with the aid of the surviving horse, he walked back to his wagon and assessed the damage to the wheel. The break was beyond his ability to repair. Luckily, another wagon happened by just then, heading toward Darlington, and its owner was willing to take his wheel for him and drop it off at the blacksmith’s. So, after moving his wagon farther off the road, Dalton climbed atop Riley and followed the other wagon back into town.

By the time the wagon wheel was repaired and delivered back to Dalton’s wagon, it was past nine. It took him the better part of another hour for him to secure the wheel to the wagon again in the dark. He knew Jillian and the children were probably worried, so he drove toward home as fast as he dared with Riley being the only horse pulling the damaged wagon.

Exhausted, Dalton pulled the wagon to a stop as quietly as he could near the barn and set the brake. He looked back at the house, noticed a light still on, and then saw a figure lying on the porch. Trusting Riley would stay put, he quickly jumped down and walked over to the house.

When he got closer, Dalton saw that it was Jillian on the steps. He looked down at her, so adorable sleeping there curled up in his old coat. She was so beautiful. The strands of moonlight that filtered through the porch roof caressed her face softly, making patterns on her cheeks. She looked so peaceful that he did not want to wake her. He knew she had been through a lot today, with her brother leaving, caring for a sick child, and then having to worry about him.

Dalton reached down and lifted her easily into his arms. She was so light, almost like a child. He felt her shiver in her sleep. Under the coat she wore only a thin nightgown, and he could feel the cold skin of her legs through the fabric. He hoped she had brought warmer clothing than this with her, because the winters here could be harsh.

Dalton carried her into the house and up to her room. Pulling the bed covers back, he laid her down carefully so as not to wake her. He gently pulled her arms out of his coat slowly, one at a time, and set it aside. Then he laid her back down and reached for the blankets to cover her. When his hand briefly brushed against hers, she unexpectedly grabbed a hold of it, rolling over on her side and pulling his arm around her. Dalton froze.

“Dalton, you’re home,” she whispered. He could tell she wasn’t awake. She was talking in her sleep, but still, he did not pull his hand away. She gripped it firmly. He maneuvered himself fully on the bed and lay on his side next to her.
What am I doing?
he thought. He decided to stay for a while longer, until she fell into a deeper sleep.

He watched her breathe slowly and admired the way her thick eyelashes lay softly against her cheek. He was tempted to trace the brow above her eye with his fingers. Her hair lay in splashes on the pillow beside him and smelled of roses and wildflowers. Dalton breathed the scent of it in deeply. She burrowed more deeply into her blankets, releasing his hand, but he made no move to leave.

Dalton couldn’t resist taking a strand of her hair delicately between his fingers and feeling the softness of it. Before he knew what he was doing, he lifted the hair from her neck and kissed the ivory skin that lay hidden there. He paused for a moment when he felt her body quiver. She snuggled her body in closer to him, and from her dreaming lips came the whispered words, “I love you, Dalton.”

Jillian felt something soft and warm brush against her neck. Instantly, she was awake and aware that Dalton was lying beside her. She had been dreaming of him moments before, and now he was here. She felt his lips travel to her ear briefly before finding their way back down her neck and to her shoulder, lingering there. Trying to lie still, so as to not break the spell, she felt herself tremble despite her efforts. He paused. Slowly, she turned her body so that she could meet his eyes in the moonlight. She couldn’t miss the passion in them, and her heart beat faster.

Dalton brought his hand to the side of her face, and he softly caressed her lower lip with his thumb. As his head descended to hers, she instinctively closed her eyes, and immediately his lips were soft and wet upon her own. Suddenly, it was as if there was a burning within him, and he could not quench his thirst. His kisses became deep and demanding. Jillian answered him with her own growing passion. They kissed with a mutual need and intensity.

All at once, he broke the seal of their lips and laid his head down on the pillow next to hers. His breathing was hard, and she could plainly see him fighting for control. Groaning audibly, he turned his back to her and sat up on the side of the bed.

Putting his face in his hands, Dalton pinched his eyes tight and tried to think. How did he end up here? Her confession of love had been his complete undoing. He wasn’t a fool. He knew she was dreaming, but it had been a long time since he had heard those words from the lips of a strong, beautiful, compassionate woman. His mind tried to reason an excuse for his behavior. They were man and wife, legally and lawfully married in the eyes of God. Regardless, he felt shame course through him.

He had given his word. She came to his house without fear of being molested. He was a man of honor and they had agreed before she came as to what their relationship would—and would not—be. Dalton stood up without even turning to look at her. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly and left to tend to his tired horse.