Depending on You

by Melissa Jagears

  Why she remained standing in the cold staring at him, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t turn her back on him when he looked like a puppy that’d been tossed off a stage.

  Then he stepped closer, and the invisible thread that had stitched two hearts together pulled tight, nearly making her stagger with the desire to collapse into his arms and pretend last year had never happened. She looked away, her chest tightening with the effort to resist.

  “What happens if I can’t find a job here?” His voice was barely audible.

  She crossed her arms, clamping against the ache. “Then you’ll have to look harder—or somewhere else.”

  He pulled off his hat, his ears red with cold. “But how can I make things up to you if we’re not together?”

  Her throat constricted. “You likely can’t.”

  “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but is there any love left in your heart that could convince you to extend me one? I’ll work hard to make up for everything wrong I’ve ever done to you.”

  Tears welled hot against her frozen face.

  He took another tentative step forward, holding out a gloved hand. “I can’t do that if we’re apart.”

  She took a step back and pushed against the door. “I’m not ready for that.”

  Once inside, she closed the door before he could say anything else. Over the last few months, she’d imagined the moment she’d show him exactly how little control he had over her now.

  But no cathartic rush swept over her by shutting the door in his face.

  She only felt more alone.

  Chapter Two

  Leah half-heartedly stirred the beans on her daughter’s stove top later that evening. She should’ve told Bryant he could eat dinner here, but this was likely the last hours she’d have before needing to decide what to do about him. Of course, she’d been trying to decide that for months. He’d been good to her for so many years, but then he’d failed her completely. How could she ever go back to trusting him as she had before? She’d never been one to hold grudges, but then, she’d never been so humiliated—and his secrets had nearly gotten her killed.

  Besides, he’d never before insisted they do something she was so set against. How could she leave Ava?

  She glanced over at her daughter, who was attempting to feed the baby before dinner. However, Lenora seemed more interested in massaging porridge into her curly hair than eating it. Ava’s six-month-old had yet to meet her grandfather. Would Ava hand the baby over to Bryant as if he hadn’t missed out on her entire life so far? Let Lenora get attached only for him to leave again?

  With a sigh, Leah set down her spoon. Of course Ava would. There wasn’t a man in this world who got a bigger sparkle in his eye when handed a baby than Bryant. When Ava was born, she’d fallen more in love with him watching him coo at their daughter as if she was the eighth wonder of the world.

  But knowing he intended to leave almost made her wish he’d stayed away. He’d get Lenora enraptured with his silly voices, only to take his leave of her soon after—and Lenora’s father wouldn’t come near to making up for her grandfather’s absence.

  Leah slammed the lid back on the beans. How many hours were left until Bryant disrupted the comfortable routine they’d created without him? Did he really have to upend everything all over again?

  And then there was the matter of her heart—its broken pieces cracked all the more at the mere thought of him leaving her behind.

  “Oh, look at me.” Ava groaned and swiped at the porridge on her bodice.

  Leah grabbed a towel. “Here, let me get you a—”

  Squealing, Lenora flung her spoon onto the floor.

  Oliver, Ava’s husband, walked in from the back hallway, hair wet from his bath. “Good evening, Mother.” He leaned down giving the top of Ava’s head a perfunctory kiss. “Darlin’.”

  Ava looked up at him. “Could you take Lenora and clean her up? I need to help Mama finish supper.”

  Oliver glanced at his daughter then shook his head. “Gotta bring in more wood.”

  “Why not after…” Her voice trailed off as she frowned at her husband’s retreating back. “Oliver!”

  He turned before closing the door. “Why not appreciate what I do? The baby won’t melt wearing food, but she’ll freeze without wood.”

  The door slammed, and Leah cringed. She wiped her hands on the towel. “Here, I can take her.”

  “No, it’s even harder for you to work holding a baby than me.” Ava took the towel and cleaned up her daughter’s chubby arms. “Sorry about that. Last night, I got mad at him for refusing to be Joseph in the nativity. Then my resentment over him ignoring Lenora spilled over, and I yelled more than necessary. I mean, he played with his nephew Ezekiel just fine two years ago, even played peek-a-boo. I think he’s ignoring her just because she’s a girl.”

  Leah had never seen Oliver hold anyone’s baby, boy or girl, but what did that have to do with the Christmas program? “He said he wouldn’t be Joseph?”

  Ava’s face hardened as she wiped off Lenora’s cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Her daughter had always been excited for the day she’d be the mother to Armelle’s youngest baby and get to be Mary in the nativity with her husband playing Joseph. Ava had also planned for her sister to sing as the angel, but of course Jennie couldn’t do that from Chicago. Another blow to Ava’s hopes.

  Leah pressed a hand to her throat. She’d agreed to sing in Jennie’s place to keep Mrs. Tate from volunteering. That old woman didn’t need to be anywhere close to Ava and her family while they were struggling. Though Mrs. Tate surely had good intentions deep down inside her somewhere, they’d yet to manifest themselves.

  Unfortunately, singing meant the whole church would hear the voice Leah no longer used if she could help it, and they’d pity her all the more.

  “Jesus is a girl, and Oliver won’t be Joseph.” Ava stood and sighed, hugging Lenora to her chest, then moved to pull the bread from the oven one-handed. “And my costume’s only half done, and I want to cry. People shouldn’t feel like crying at Christmas.”

  “Nursing made me just as weepy as when I was pregnant, so maybe it’s just that. But it’s all right to cry. Better than bottling it up.” If only she could tell her daughter everything would be fine, but her own worries would likely make such encouragement sound flat.

  Leah took the bread from Ava and shooed her from the stove. “Who will you have stand in for Joseph?” She shook her head. Of course, Bryant would. She should tell Ava her father was home. But then he’d come to rehearsals. And he’d hear how she sang, and he’d notice how her face was—

  “Celia’s going to be Joseph.”

  “What?” Leah jerked upright. “The sixteen-year-old with a chip on her shoulder?”

  Ava smiled, the first one she’d sported since Leah had come to help with dinner. “What other Celia do you know?”

  “She would actually do that? Stand up in front of church in a costume?”

  “You’ve done a world of good for her, Mama.”

  “Not me, exactly.” She touched the slack muscles weighing down her mouth in a permanent half frown. The day Celia had tried to rescue her from the rustlers the young lady had been in cahoots with had ended in disaster. Though if Bryant hadn’t gotten mixed up with them in the first place, they’d never have kidnapped her in an attempt to force his hand. “What happened to me and the guilt she won’t let go of…that’s what changed the girl.”

  The back door banged open. Leah turned expecting to see Oliver, but Spencer, a curly-haired bundle of energy, ran in instead. “Mrs. Ronstandt! Guess what?”

  Celia, his sister, tromped in after him, as if they’d been waiting around to hear her name before entering. She grabbed the door her brother had flung open and shut it gently. “Spence, you’re going to put a hole in the wall one of these days.”

  The nine-year-old ignored his sister and bounced straight to Ava. “Pa said yes, Mrs. Ronstandt!”

 
“That’s goo—”

  “Spence, you need to settle down.” Celia grabbed him by the shoulder as if to keep him on the floor.

  “What’s this all about?” Leah took in the mischievous gleam in the boy’s wide eyes. After Spencer’s mother, Annie, had remarried, this outgoing boy had turned up the notches on his ability to light up a room.

  Ava put a hand on his head and mussed his auburn hair. “Spencer’s going to—”

  “Pa said I could be the angel.” Spencer threw out his arms and twisted under Ava’s hand like a top.

  Leah swallowed, unable to look at her daughter. She knew her voice wasn’t worth much, but—

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Whitsett. You’re still going to sing because I can’t sing that high.” Spencer took her right hand and patted it. “And you’re too heavy to fly.”

  She peered down at him. “Fly?”

  “Yeah! Mrs. Key is going to rig me up a harness and pulley, so Pa can hoist me clear to the rafters.” He spread out his arms and zoomed around the kitchen table, much to Lenora’s toothless, drooly grinned delight. “I’m going to fly!”

  “But wouldn’t Celia rather be the—”

  “Celia’s too heavy to fly.” He bumped into a chair, but caught it before it clattered, then went back to buzzing around. “So that’s why I have to be the angel.”

  The young lady crossed her arms over her nearly flat chest. “There’s no way I’m hanging from the rafters trussed up like a bird.”

  “And that’s why she’s Joseph, so I can fly.” He squawked, more like a distressed hawk than anything that’d emit from an angel.

  She turned to Celia. “But Joseph isn’t a girl—”

  “And Jesus ain’t a girl either, but he has to be this year.” Spencer stopped in front of Ava and blew a playful buzz against Lenora’s chubby arm.

  Instead of giggling, the babe frowned so deeply she looked like a grumpy old man.

  “I guess you have me there.” Leah couldn’t help her smile.

  “Besides, Ma said angels are boys anyway. Who knows why they started using girls. You don’t hear girl angel names in the Bible. So, I’m fine. And small. That’s what’s important.”

  She grinned at his enthusiasm. “And your father really agreed to hoist you up on a rope?”

  Celia rolled her eyes. “Men are just big boys. Jacob insists I have to start making grown-up decisions, but I’m not the one who’s been trying to out spit Spencer all week—when Ma ain’t looking, of course.”

  Leah took in Celia’s rigid form. “Are you all right with being Joseph?”

  She shrugged. “It got me out of wearing a sparkly halo—which I have no right to wear.”

  “Hey, you two.” Their mother popped in through the back door. Annie’s rounded belly was just becoming discernible, but the near permanent smile on her face made the bigger impression.

  It was so good to see her happy—even though now, Leah’s own joy seemed as far away as Annie’s had once been.

  “You two shouldn’t leave me in the dust.” She blew a limp strand of red hair off her face. “I get winded easily these days.”

  “Mrs. Ronstandt said yes!” Spencer slammed into his mother’s middle.

  Annie cringed. “Oh, child, be careful.”

  He backed away, shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Mama.”

  Annie looked to Ava. “Did he actually ask you if it would be all right?”

  Ava placed a hand on Annie’s shoulder. “Not exactly. But I’m fine with him making the part his own.” Though Ava was smiling, there was a touch of sadness on her face Annie likely wouldn’t notice. “I’m fine with whatever he wants to do.”

  Which meant her daughter had given up on what she’d always hoped for.

  “Great.” Spencer’s face lit even more. “I bet I can come up with even better stuff. You’ll have the best nativity ever.” The boy gave a quick peck to his mother’s slightly swollen abdomen before zooming out the back door into the cold.

  Ava watched him disappear with a blank expression. “Mrs. Hendrix, what do you think about your family taking over this year’s nativity?”

  “What?” Leah stepped forward. “You’ve always wanted to do this.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I should wait until I have a boy.”

  “But what if you always have girls?” Celia asked, from where she was leaning against the table.

  The sadness on Ava’s face made Leah want to punch Oliver in the nose. How dare he make her daughter worry about having more beautiful, healthy baby girls like Lenora. Leah placed a reassuring hand against Ava’s back. “Oliver will adjust, if that happens.”

  She nodded meekly and readjusted Lenora, who was draped heavily upon her shoulder. “Of course. Excuse me, I’m going to put Lenora down. Though I hope she doesn’t nap too long or I’m not going to get much sleep again tonight.”

  Considering the dark circles under her daughter’s eyes, Leah doubted Oliver was helping at night, either.

  Annie stepped closer to Leah as Ava headed to the back bedroom. “Are you sure she’s fine with Spencer and Celia being in the nativity? I know my boy’s excited to ‘fly,’ but if that’s going to be a problem, I can explain it to him.”

  “I’m certain it’s all right. She’s just been overwhelmed lately.”

  “Let me know if she changes her mind.” Annie squeezed Leah’s shoulder. “And let us know when Bryant returns so we can have you both out to the ranch. Jacob is eager to have you over for dinner.”

  Probably because he knew how the town would likely shun his friend and was hoping to lead by example. If Jacob and Annie only knew how unsure she was of what to do with Bryant herself. “Thanks. He’ll be happy to spend some time with Jacob, I’m certain.”

  Annie took her leave and Leah started setting out plates, trying hard not to think about how dinner with the Hendrixes would go if she hadn’t the courage to have her husband over for dinner right now. Maybe she should stay behind and let him go on his own.

  “What’s wrong, Mother?”

  Leah jumped at Ava’s question. She turned to see her daughter watching her from the kitchen doorway. “What do you mean?”

  “The cloud hanging over you seems darker today.”

  She put out another plate. “I’m just wondering what to do about your father.”

  “Papa?”

  “I…Do you—oh, of course you do.” She sighed, then nodded at Oliver who’d come in through the back door with an armful of wood. “What I mean is, I’m sure you want him to be here, but I couldn’t ask him to—”

  “You mean he’s back?” At Leah’s weak nod, Ava straightened to her full height. “Why didn’t you tell me? Oliver, did we get a letter from Papa recently?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  She faced Leah again. “Why isn’t he here?”

  Leah couldn’t keep eye contact with her daughter. “I don’t know where he is at the moment.”

  Oliver deposited his wood by the stove, and Ava sidled over to whisper, “What’s wrong? Are you two having problems like Oliver and me?”

  “Oh, honey.” Leah smoothed back her hair, as if Ava wasn’t a mother herself now. “Some days are hard, but we’ll get through it.” Hopefully.

  Oliver stretched and yawned. “Is it time to eat yet?”

  “Of course.” Leah took out the ham, which had stayed warm in the oven.

  Oliver rubbed his hands together as he sat in his chair. “You’d think I’d get used to the cold working outside all day, but every evening it seems to take me longer to get warm. At least the weather’s not slowing me up like Smith. He really shouldn’t be working the tracks anymore.”

  As Oliver related the mundane goings-on of the shipping yard, Leah remained silent.

  How was she going to keep the bleakness she felt hidden from everyone? If Ava was beginning to see…well, it wasn’t like she’d had reason to practice hiding dark emotions from her daughter before. But how was she going to help Ava if her own marriage was fallin
g apart?

  How many years had she looked forward to being the doting grandmother, the dispenser of wisdom, the type of mother-in-law a man would praise? Instead, she wasn’t any one of those things. No one should take advice from a woman who’d so thoroughly misjudged her husband. But she’d not failed as a mother, so she needed to focus on that.

  Lenora’s quiet mewling interrupted Ava’s description of the sad state of her Christmas costume. “Good, she’s up already. Could you get her, Oliver?”

  He wiped his mouth and pushed away his empty plate. “I thought you wanted me to fix the dresser drawer?”

  “I do, but—”

  “I can’t do both.” He quit the table and headed out the back door, leaving Ava to stare at her unfinished food.

  Lenora cried again, and Ava stood.

  “I’m full. Let me get her.” Leah tossed her napkin onto the table. If anyone in this house needed to finish eating, it was Ava.

  “No, Mother. I can do it.”

  Leah stood anyway and gently pushed Ava back toward her chair. “With babies, you need all the energy you can get. Don’t refuse help when you’ve got it.”

  Ava sat and slammed her chin into her hand. “You’re the only help I get.”

  Leah had to force herself not to glare out the backdoor window. “When Lenora’s old enough to talk and do things, surely he’ll take more of an interest. But if he doesn’t, when your husband fails you in one area, you forge on.” As she’d done with the laundry. “Meanwhile, shower this baby with twice the love until he comes around. We’ll pray he does.” She gave Ava’s shoulders a quick rub, then left to retrieve Lenora, whose cries were growing more insistent.

  Upon returning and after Ava had finished eating and taken the baby back, Leah shooed her daughter out of the room. She’d scour the kitchen spotless in hopes of lifting her girl’s spirits.

  Half an hour later, a knock sounded on the front door. Leah froze. Oliver wouldn’t have knocked.

  Ava called to the visitor to come in and then the door whined open.

  “Oh, ho, ho there! Who is this?”

  Ava emitted a lighthearted squeal, and then soft scuffling sounds—likely her daughter throwing herself into Bryant’s arms—followed.