Depending on You

by Melissa Jagears

  Leah’s heart bottomed out. If only she could’ve run into his embrace with such joy. But she couldn’t have—it would’ve been fake.

  And yet, she nearly trembled at the thought of being where her daughter stood now.

  “Hello, hello, baby.” Bryant’s voice cracked a bit. “You don’t know who I am now, do you? We’ll have to fix that.”

  Lenora’s scared whimper almost broke Leah’s heart.

  “Honey, Grandpa isn’t going to hurt you.” Ava began shushing her.

  “Don’t worry about it, Ava. She’ll get used to me in time. You keep her. Maybe it’s my beard. Should Poppa shave it off? Or is Poppa what you call Oliver?”

  “No.” Ava’s voice sounded strained.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  Leah couldn’t decipher Ava’s muffled answer, likely from being pressed against her father’s chest.

  Rubbing her hands dry a second time, Leah took in a fortifying breath. Ava didn’t need to deal with lost dreams, an uncooperative husband, and her parents giving each other the cold shoulder. She stepped through the kitchen doorway and swallowed hard at the sight of Bryant’s arms tight around Ava while Lenora pulled on her mother’s skirts from where she sat on the rug.

  “There’s ham I could heat up,” she said, her heart stuck somewhere up in her throat.

  Bryant peered over Ava’s head, his eyes tinged red. “I’ve eaten,” he answered with a rough warble. “I came to see Ava and the baby. But perhaps I could walk you home?”

  Lenora’s cries became more insistent as she toppled over. She was still having trouble sitting up on her huge diapered bottom.

  Walk home with Bryant? Now? She wiped her clammy hands on her apron and looked at the clock. “I’m afraid I’m not leaving anytime soon. I was going to stay and help,” she answered loudly over the baby’s sobbing. Though little left needed doing, she could surely find—

  “Excuse me.” Ava stepped out of Bryant’s arms and picked up Lenora. “I need to feed her.”

  Once Ava was out of earshot, Bryant frowned at her from across the room. “You don’t want me to walk you home, do you?”

  She shook her head. She’d have no idea what to do with herself. “Good night, Bryant.” Turning, she walked back into the kitchen, then leaned heavily against the table.

  Her heart was still pitter-pattering at seeing Ava snuggled up against Bryant. Was she jealous she couldn’t be in his arms or miffed because Ava felt comfortable enough to cuddle up despite how he’d upended their whole world?

  A minute later, Bryant appeared in the doorway. “Are you planning for us to talk only when absolutely necessary? Don’t you think seven months apart is too much already?”

  Her lungs faltered. How to explain that his imprisonment had been as bad for her as it’d been for him? “You left me penniless and completely embarrassed, struggling to take care of myself. Prison time might have given the folks you took advantage of some semblance of justice, but it didn’t help me any.”

  “I’m so sorry. I wish I could undo everything. But it’s not like you to be… well, I’d rather you yell at me than not talk to me. We’ve got to figure things out together.”

  She nearly laughed envisioning herself yelling at him. Besides this morning, when had she ever really raised her voice at him? But the mountain between them wasn’t funny. “For months, I thought I could have a good rail at you when you returned, but after talking to you the way I did earlier? It wasn’t as satisfying as I’d hoped. But I don’t feel like being nice to you either. I can’t go back to how things were.” Her throat clogged and she looked away from him.

  “How can you be sure unless we try?”

  She shook her head. It wasn’t possible.

  “What can I do to regain your trust? To get us back on good terms?”

  “I wish I knew.” Despite the strength she tried to instill into her words, her voice sounded as broken as she was. She clamped shaky hands around the table’s edge. After a minute of silence, she looked over at him.

  He swallowed hard, jaw tight. Half a year ago, seeing him fighting off tears would’ve been the worst thing in the world for her, but now, maybe he realized how much damage he’d caused—not to the town, but to her belief in him.

  With a deep breath, he nodded and bent to pick up an abandoned spit-up rag Ava must’ve dropped. Wordlessly, he handed it to her, then turned, leaving the kitchen with a heavy tread.

  She strangled the cloth in her hand. He’d likely not do her wrong again, but their relationship couldn’t simply return to normal because he’d come back. He’d have to earn back her trust—if that was even possible—before she could go anywhere with him.

  She dropped the rag into the hamper and headed toward Lenora’s room. In light of Ava’s exasperated sighs and the repetitive rhythm of drawers opening and closing, her daughter was likely searching for a new outfit for the baby.

  Never had she thought the day would come where she’d not follow Bryant to the ends of the earth. But that time had come.

  Chapter Three

  In the mercantile, Bryant pretended to be interested in shoe polish as he waited for a woman in a threadbare shawl to finish reading the advertisements on the cork board. Last year, he’d have asked her what kind of work she was looking for, but what good could he do her now? If she told anyone he’d recommended her for a position, she might be turned away. Once the woman left, just as slumped as she’d been before, he moved to the cork board, fearing he’d not have much luck either.

  His heart sank with each notice he read. He’d already inquired after all these positions, even the ones he’d had no notion of how to do.

  All but the top left advertisement anyway. Seemed the printer hadn’t been truthful when he’d said he had no position open. The handwritten post indicated he’d put the notice up two days ago.

  Rather than tear the paper off the board, Bryant breathed in deep and slow. Chris could’ve hired someone before he’d gotten there—and even if he hadn’t, not wanting to hire a convicted criminal wasn’t anything unusual. He’d spent all day listening to people explain why they couldn’t hire him for paperwork—for which he was best qualified—and why it wouldn’t be “good for business” to take him on for anything else.

  He ambled over to the front window and puffed hot air against its frosty pane. The street was crowded despite the snow flurries, probably because of the incoming train. He rubbed his hands along his arms. Despite his age, surely he could keep up with an inexperienced laborer, but to work at the rail yard with Oliver? He wouldn’t force his son-in-law to have to distance himself from his wife’s father to safeguard his reputation.

  Bryant looked to the other side of town where the ridge stood like a sentinel over the sweeping plains. He likely couldn’t get hired on for ranch work, considering he’d been convicted of helping the former mayor steal land from numerous county ranchers.

  The only job in desperate need of filling was that of marshal, and he wouldn’t bother to apply for that. He’d have to keep trying for a labor job of some sort until he mended his reputation. Getting work with the railroad would probably be easiest, but he couldn’t be away that long, not with the way things were between him and Leah.

  He drummed his fingers against his bicep. How long would it take to earn back her confidence?

  Maybe he should ask Jacob or Nolan if they could use him, even if that meant staying in the bunkhouse. Though it was too late to ride out now and ask. He’d interrupt their supper.

  His stomach rumbled on cue, and he glanced at his pocket watch. Ava had invited him to dinner this evening, but Leah likely didn’t want him to come. But after months of prison food, the canned beans he’d eaten every day since release had completely lost their charm—if they’d ever had any.

  After waiting for the young family near the front door to move away, he slipped out of the mercantile. As had happened all week, the people on the boardwalk gave him a wide berth. Deputy Dent nodded his head as they pa
ssed, but his gaze was hard and measured.

  Bryant turned down the alley. He’d take the long way to Ava’s to avoid as many people as possible.

  After knocking on his daughter’s door, he turned the knob, unwilling to wait on the doorstep longer than necessary in the blustery weather. The trills of a well-tuned piano filled the room. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Papa.” Ava’s voice called out over the Christmas song she was playing. He couldn’t quite remember the name of it though, being one Ava had sent off for only last year.

  After stepping inside and shutting out the wind, his stomach growled again. What smelled so good? He crossed the front room to peek into the kitchen despite his heart thumping overtime at the possibility of catching his wife unaware. But the kitchen was empty. He resisted the urge to check on what smelled like onions and beef for fear he’d be unable to resist eating straight from the pot.

  Forcing himself away from the promise of a delicious dinner, he couldn’t help but smile at Ava’s off-key singing rising above the discordant baby babble.

  He sat on the sofa to watch Ava play and Lenora “talk” exuberantly to a rag doll. But his smile faded when he realized Ava didn’t look happy.

  Letting the last note fade, Ava pulled her hands from the keys and frowned at the sheet music in front of her.

  “What’s wrong, doll?” He got up and walked over to place a hand on her shoulder. “That was beautiful. I’ve missed your playing.”

  “It’s not the playing, it’s the singing.”

  He couldn’t help his smirk. “It wasn’t that bad.” Though Ava wasn’t the singer her sister and mother were, it wasn’t as if her voice made dogs whine.

  “I can’t do the song justice. Mama could have, but now?” Her shoulder shifted under his hand as she shrugged. “It’s hard to listen to her sing, knowing how much pain she must be in.”

  He swallowed and let his hand fall from her shoulder. He’d noticed Leah’s gravelly voice, but how had he not realized the accident would’ve ruined her lovely singing, too—no, he had ruined her singing. “Pain? Should she sing at all then?”

  The thought alone kicked him in the gut. How many years had he woken up to his wife humming a beautiful tune as she prepared breakfast? Stopped singing in the middle of church just to listen to his wife pour her heart out to the Lord? And he’d taken that away from her by letting his lust for money destroy his family.

  “Doctor hasn’t said she shouldn’t as far as I know, but listening to her, it has to hurt. She wouldn’t admit it though. So I thought I’d try to sing, but no one’s going to be happy with that—even I can tell I’m flat most the time.” She sighed while leaning over to hand Lenora the doll that had fallen out of reach. “This Christmas is not going as I’d hoped. If only Jennie were here.”

  She turned on the bench to face him. “Can you think of a way to convince Mama not to sing without hurting her feelings? I know she wants to do this for me, but I don’t want her to hurt herself.”

  His throat tightened. “I’m not sure when I’ll see your mother next.”

  “Did she not come with you?” She scrunched her eyebrows and looked past him.

  He cleared his throat. “We’re, um, not living together. And if she’s not coming to dinner…”

  Ava blinked up at him. She’d never looked so bewildered, other than that day so many years ago when they’d had to explain how Jennie could no longer see.

  He shrugged, dragging his gaze away from hers and down to Lenora, who was chewing on the hem of her doll’s dress. “It’s what your mother wants.”

  If anyone deserved to get what she wanted, it was Leah. Though she’d never before asked for something he didn’t want to give.

  “Hey, you two.”

  Bryant startled at the low masculine rumble of Oliver’s voice behind them.

  His son-in-law came over and kissed Ava on the forehead. “Is dinner ready? I’m starving.”

  At the same time Ava shook her head, Lenora threw her doll and started crying.

  Oliver glanced down at his daughter, but walked right past her and out of the room. “I’ll bring in more wood then.”

  Bryant frowned at his son-in-law’s retreating back.

  Ava huffed and bent to pick up Lenora, shushing her as she bounced her on her knee. “Come now, baby.” When the little one didn’t stop crying, Ava examined her, but seemed to see nothing of concern. With a few kisses to Lenora’s nose and some cooing, the baby finally started to settle.

  “That’s better.” Ava wiped her daughter’s puffy eyes and stood, balancing Lenora on her hip. “Can’t have you crying while I finish dinner.”

  “Your mother’s not coming to help?”

  Ava frowned. “Normally, she’d be here already. I thought she was coming with you.”

  Bryant reached for Lenora. “Then let me have the baby.”

  Ava gave him the most unreadable look. Did she not want him to take the baby? But in a flash, she’d handed Lenora over, gave him an exaggerated kiss on his cheek, and left for the kitchen.

  Lenora’s sniffles changed slightly—sounding less hurt and more worried.

  “Not too sure of your Poppop, eh?”

  Leaning away, she looked up at him with big, wet eyes.

  “Since you know absolutely nothing about me, I bet you’ll be the easiest woman in this town to win over.” He shoved around her toys with his foot to make an open spot on the rug, then sat down, propping her up in front of him.

  Her lower lip began to quiver.

  With a silly voice, he squawked. “Oh, no you don’t.”

  Her eyes widened, but her lip stopped quivering.

  Leaning over, he picked up the rag doll which had vexed her earlier. Using the same silly voice, he made the toy dance and sing on the rug in front of her. “Mama doesn’t want you to cry. Poppop doesn’t either.”

  He wriggled the doll against Lenora’s neck to tickle her. “Don’t you cry.”

  She squirmed, a smile threatening her down-turned lips, so he plunged the doll into her roly-poly neck again. “Don’t you do it.”

  She scrunched up to ward off his tickles, but her eyes lit and a two-nubby-toothed grin broke through.

  Did anyone else think she looked exactly like her Aunt Jennie?

  He kept his smile in place, but the same emptiness he’d struggled against while incarcerated filled him. How he’d missed his girls. But only one was happy to see him.

  “Nope, there will be two. I’ll win you over.” He cupped his granddaughter’s chubby cheek. “But you’ll forget all about me if I leave, won’t you?”

  Lenora turned wary again, so he released her and picked up the doll to make it recite “Peas Porridge Hot.”

  If he had to leave, if this was the last time his family would be together, maybe he should plead for Jennie to come home for Christmas. He’d do anything to give Ava the happy holiday memory she wanted before she learned it could be the family’s last.

  He’d have to sell his rifle or something to get his youngest home, but he’d pray she’d agree. The last time she’d written, she’d seemed intent on staying in the city.

  He’d figured he’d have a good chance at finding work in Chicago, but he’d expected Leah to move with him since it’d be close to one of their daughters. But if she wouldn’t, did they have any choice but to separate?

  Unable to maintain the silly voice he was using to entertain Lenora, he set the dolly down, scooped his granddaughter up, and squeezed her tight. Thankfully, she didn’t protest.

  How could he endure being so far away he couldn’t check up on these three every day? Seven months of being uncertain of how they fared had been pure torture. If he didn’t leave on good terms…

  No. Leaving town was not an option. He must find something to do here.

  Chapter Four

  The laundry door bell jangled as Corinne Key, the previous laundress, came in, her face beaming. Her blond hair was windswept, her cheeks and nose a rosy pink.

&n
bsp; Leah cranked the last sheet through the wringer, then came up to the counter. “What brings you in this icy afternoon? You look happier than anyone should be when it’s eighteen degrees outside.”

  “I am.” Corinne plunked her elbows on the counter, rubbing her arms despite them being ensconced in a thick wool coat. She leaned forward. “I really am.”

  Leah couldn’t help but smile back.

  Corinne leaned closer. “Because you were right,” she whispered.

  “About what?” Leah chuckled at her friend’s exuberant vagueness.

  “Your advice.” She lifted her eyebrows and glanced toward the door. “About, you know…things.”

  “Oh.” Leah forced the smile to stay on her face. Corinne’s happiness was no reason to feel sad. And yet, would she ever again sport such a silly grin after a night with her own husband? She’d been glad to offer the newlywed bride advice, but it hurt to know she’d not be enjoying Bryant’s attentions anytime soon.

  Corinne’s cheeks turned redder than what winter weather would cause. “I had to duck in here because everyone keeps asking me why I’m smiling so much. And if they guessed, I’d be mortified! But I’m stuck in town until Nolan finishes his errands.”

  Patting Corinne’s hand, Leah’s smile felt real again. “I’m surprised he dragged you into town with the weather being what it is.”

  “Oh, well, he didn’t want to, but the men are going to quit on him if he keeps putting off getting supplies to cozy up with me.”

  The door jangled and the man in question came in along with a waft of glacial wind.

  The second Nolan caught sight of his wife, he grinned and walked straight for her. “I’m done at the mercantile. We can go home now.”

  Leah shook her head. Did he even notice she was standing there?

  Corinne turned toward her and whispered, “Thanks so much.”

  Nolan jolted.

  Seemed he hadn’t noticed her. She started to chuckle, but Nolan only winked at her before tugging his wife up against his side. “Good day, Mrs. Whitsett.”