by Renee Ryan
“You know that’s not true.” She shook her head sadly. “Under the circumstances, I think it’s best if I return to the boardinghouse for…a while.”
He glanced at her uneasily. Her words sounded final. “A while?”
A sob broke free from her lips. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth and stared at him with horrified eyes.
“Rebecca, please, I—”
“No.” Without another glance in his direction, she spun on her heel and shoved through the crowd.
Once free, she broke into a run.
Pete set out after her, but Edward’s powerful grip on his arm stopped him. “Let her go.”
“I can’t.” Pete shook off the big Norwegian with a hard flick. “I need to tell her I’ll come this evening and escort her home.”
Edward met Pete’s gaze with an unbending glare. “Maybe you should wait a day or two, give her time to settle down.”
“She’s my wife,” he ground out. “She’s had a scare. I should be the one to help her settle down.”
Opening his mouth to speak, Edward looked at the interested faces surrounding them, then slammed his lips into a hard, grim line.
Jerking his head toward the riverbank, he directed Pete to follow him to a secluded spot near a large cottonwood tree.
Once they were relatively alone, Edward began again. “Let me ask you a question.”
Pete swallowed back his impatience. “Yeah, all right.”
“Do you love my sister?”
Of course he loved her. It might have taken this frightening incident to highlight the truth in his mind, but he did love Rebecca. More than he thought possible. If something—or someone—threatened Rebecca, Pete would do whatever it took to protect her. Even fight to the death.
He couldn’t lose her now that he’d discovered the depth of his feelings. He—
“Pete.” Edward’s voice cut through his thoughts. “It’s not a complicated question. A one-word answer is all I need.”
“Yes,” he said without reservation. “I love her.”
“I’m glad you’re able to admit it.” Edward nodded his approval. “But you better think of a way to show her, because right now she doesn’t think you care.”
Of course she didn’t. He hadn’t given her cause to believe in him.
He’d missed his opportunity this morning. And now he knew words wouldn’t be enough to convince Rebecca he loved her, not anymore. He’d have to make a grand gesture.
“I need to go.”
“Fine. But, Pete.” Edward’s voice stopped him mid-stride. “Whatever you have planned, it better be good.”
“It will be.” I hope.
Edward wasn’t through. “If you don’t convince her, if you let her down, I’ll take her away from here. To a place back East where people won’t hurt her anymore, including you.”
The heavy feeling in his gut warned Pete that Edward meant every word. But the big Norwegian was wrong to make that threat, and misguided. Maybe Sarah would have been happier back East among her family. But Rebecca’s family was here, with Edward and Pete. They could provide all the love she needed. He just had to prove that to her.
Fortunately, Pete had a good idea what he needed to do. Unfortunately, he couldn’t pull it off on his own.
But maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone. Maybe it all came down to whether or not Pete could submit his will to the Lord’s.
This is it, Lord. I place my future with Rebecca into Your hands.
Rather than feeling weak in his moment of submission, Pete felt strong. Stronger than he’d ever felt in his life.
He would pull this off.
Two days passed before Rebecca could think rationally about her marriage. Pete had yet to come for her at the boardinghouse, but she didn’t hold that against him. In fact, she bore a large share of the blame.
Now that her emotions had settled, she could look back over their last meeting with a logical eye. Pete had been filled with worry that day on the riverbank, worry for her. He hadn’t said the right words, no, but he’d tried.
She’d been too stubborn to accept his efforts for what they were—a genuine attempt to express his feelings, his caring, maybe even his love.
The truth had been right in front of her and she’d ignored it.
A knock sounded on her door an instant before Mrs. Jennings pushed into Rebecca’s room. “You have a visitor.”
Her heart dipped in her chest and she smiled.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry, dear.” Mrs. Jennings gave her an apologetic smile. “It’s only your brother.”
Rebecca sighed in disappointment. “I’ll be right down.”
Taking the steps slowly, she wondered when Pete would come for her.
What would she do if he didn’t come?
No. She couldn’t think like that. He would come. In his own time and in his own way.
Resolve firmly back in place, she joined Edward in the front parlor.
He stood with his back to her, looking rumpled and dusty, but physically strong. He was nearly healed from his battle with the Tully brothers.
Thank You, Lord.
“Edward? You wanted to see me?”
His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn around.
“What’s happened?” Fear made her voice shrill. “Is it Pete? Has he been hurt?”
“He’s fine.”
She blew out a sigh of relief just as Edward turned to face her. An odd expression filled his eyes.
“What is it?” she asked. “I can tell something’s wrong.”
He trooped over to the fireplace with big, clunky steps, leaned his forearm against the mantel, then dug his toe at a crack in the hearth.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “I’ve just been wondering. Was it a mistake to send for you? Should I have left you in Norway?”
What a ridiculous question. Surely he knew her answer. “Of course it wasn’t a mistake. I love living in High Plains.” This was her home, perhaps more than Norway had ever been.
“What about all the trouble you’ve had in the past month? Don’t you have any regrets?”
Regrets? Over what? She’d experienced difficulties, yes. But she’d gained so much more. She’d made friends. Good friends. And she’d become Pete’s wife. Despite the current rift between them, Rebecca was glad she’d married him. Perhaps she’d allowed her fear to rule her heart these past two days, but she was through with all that. She was going to be strong now, bold.
To fortify her resolve, she called upon her favorite verse from the Book of Joshua, the one she’d recited throughout her travels to America, the same one she’d called upon when she’d finally decided to marry Pete. Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid.
“No, Edward. I have no regrets.”
His gaze filled with disbelief. “Your husband has left you here for two full days.”
“Pete will come for me.” She had no doubt her husband wanted her with him. And she wanted to be with him. Pete might not have pretty words in him, but he was a good man. A noble man. He was also kind and faithful and…glory, she really was in love with her husband.
Edward’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe he will come for you. But is that enough? What about Matilda and Abigail Johnson? They’ve treated you terribly from the start.”
Rebecca braced for the rage that always came at the mention of the Johnson women. But this time, when the terrible emotion came, the feeling didn’t overwhelm her. Her anger was slowly dissipating.
Rebecca knew it would take time for her to forgive the two fully, but she believed she would.
With the Lord’s help.
“Oh, Edward,” she said. “Not everyone has to like me.”
“Why are you so good?” he asked, his palm extending to touch her cheek.
She laughed. “I’m not good, just realistic.”
“No, you’re good. What else explains why you don’t hold a grudge against Matilda Johnson and her nasty daughter?”
“You want to
know the truth?”
He dropped his hand and nodded.
“For weeks I’ve struggled with crippling anger toward those two.”
“Understandable.”
“Perhaps. But if I allow my anger to turn to hatred or, worse, bitterness, then I’m the one who loses. I won’t give either woman that kind of power over me. Besides, if the Lord can forgive me, I need to learn to forgive Matilda and Abigail.”
Edward didn’t look convinced by her argument. “But if it wasn’t for their mean-spirited gossip, you wouldn’t have been forced to marry Pete.”
With that one simple statement, all the pieces of the past weeks fell into place for Rebecca. “Who’s to say marrying Pete wasn’t God’s will for my life?”
And who was she to question God’s methods for bringing about His will?
“God’s will?” Edward spat the words. “What sort of God allows His child to be forced into an unhappy marriage?”
“My marriage isn’t unhappy.” Not completely. And hopefully not for much longer.
“Then why are you living here again?” Shoving away from her, Edward paced around the tiny room. “And why haven’t I seen you smile since your wedding day?”
Two very good questions, the last easier to answer than the first. “I haven’t smiled because I’ve been putting my own selfish concerns and needs ahead of my husband’s. Pete’s wife died a little over a year ago. It was wrong of me to expect him to get over his loss in such a short time.”
Edward stopped. “What if he never gets over her?”
“Then I live with that, and love him, anyway.”
“I won’t condemn you to such a fate.” Returning to her side, he stared intently at her. “Let’s leave High Plains. Tonight.”
She reared back. “What?”
His hands fisted at his sides. “Let’s move back East somewhere. Maybe Boston. Or New York.”
“But High Plains is my home. It’s your home, too. You love working with the horses at the livery.”
He lifted a shoulder. “So I’ll find a job as a farrier somewhere else. My training is complete. And you can work in a restaurant, or a boardinghouse like this one.” He swept his arm in a wide arc. “We’ll start over. In a place where people won’t judge you for something you didn’t do.”
Rebecca considered his suggestion for less than a second. “Oh, Edward, you’re sweet to offer, but I can’t run away simply because a few people in this town treat me poorly.”
“It could be different in a big city. Better.”
No, not better. It would be worse, because she wouldn’t have Pete by her side.
She knew what she had to do.
“I’m sorry, Edward.” She squared her shoulders. “I won’t leave my husband. I said vows before God and several witnesses. It’s time I lived up to those promises.” For better or worse.
She headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find my husband.”
This time Pete would not walk away from her. And she wouldn’t walk away from him. Never again.
Chapter Nineteen
Rebecca burst out the door of the boardinghouse so quickly the handle whipped from her grip. The door bounced off the wall and then swung straight for her. She moved out of the way just in time, cringing at the sound of the door banging shut behind her.
Poised on the top step, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. A gentle breeze tickled her face, lifting her hair off her shoulders. She could not find pleasure in the moment.
Her emotions came too fast, one on top of another. Norwegian words fumbled over English ones in her mind. Yet every thought pinpointed to one goal—find her husband and make matters right between them.
She had no plan, just hope. And a lot of determination.
Lord, go before me. Smooth my path.
Tapping into every last scrap of courage she had, she hurried down the boardinghouse steps. She shoved at her hair, remembering another time she’d taken this same route—more than a month ago, when the tornado had blown through town.
On that fateful day, a similar sense of urgency had flowed through her.
Hurrying down Main Street, she cast a quick glance to her left. The town hall was taking shape, as were several other homes and businesses. The rebuilding of High Plains was more reality than talk now.
The town would survive the destruction left by the storm.
But would her marriage?
Yes. She would not allow any other ending to what had started out as a way to silence gossip.
Blinking past the bright afternoon sun, she realized she was not alone on the street. Navigating the labyrinth of activity, Rebecca rounded the corner of the mercantile with her gaze firmly planted at her feet.
Oh, Lord, please, she prayed, give me the words to convince Pete our marriage can be real. Help him believe that I can make him a good and honorable wife for the rest of our lives.
She broke into a run as soon as her feet hit the expanse of dirt and pebbles between the mercantile and Pete’s domain.
One, two, three. She counted each step. Ten more and she was outside the smithy.
“Pete,” she called into the gloomy building.
No answer.
She rushed to the livery. “Pete.” Her rising anxiety made her Norwegian accent heavier than usual. “Are you in there?”
Still no answer.
There was one final place to check.
She turned toward the house, but only covered a few yards when the object of her quest came circling around the back of the livery.
His steps were hurried, clipped. And his face was set in a determined scowl. She’d only seen that raw emotion in him once before. When he’d set out to save her life.
Her heart skidded to a stop, lifted and then stuck in her throat.
“Pete.” She gave him a shaky smile when he stopped a few feet away from her. “I, I wanted to say…” Her voice didn’t sound right. Why couldn’t she make her voice sound right? “I…hello.”
“Hello, Rebecca.” His eyes were unreadable, even as he circled his arms around her waist. He didn’t pull her close, rather he searched her face, then lowered his gaze and frowned. “You’re breathing hard. Are you hurt?”
“No, no. I was just rushing a bit to get here.” Her worry was finally receding, and now she felt a little foolish at her earlier surge of emotion.
He pulled her a step closer, his intense eyes never leaving her face. “Why were you rushing to get here?”
His voice was smooth, deep. Hypnotic.
Her breathing tripped in her lungs.
“To get to you.”
“I see.” The genuine pleasure in his voice sounded so natural, so easy. Unfortunately, his arms remained loose around her.
That would not do.
She pressed her palms against his chest and lifted onto her toes.
“I want to come home, Pete,” she whispered, right before she placed her lips against his.
At last, his embrace tightened.
After a wonderful, blissful moment, he stepped away and blinked at her. “Do you mean for good?”
“Yes.”
A softness filled his gaze, making him look more relaxed and approachable than she’d ever seen him. In fact, he looked somewhat smug.
“Come with me,” he said. “I have something to show you.”
He led her across the short distance to their home. “You might not believe me when I say this, but I was just at the boardinghouse looking for you.”
She hadn’t expected that. But she should have, especially when she realized he was just as out of breath as she was. “You…you were?”
“Your brother sent me back here.”
“He…he did?”
“He did.” He gave her a very masculine wink. “But I don’t want to talk about Edward, I have a surprise waiting for you in our home.”
“You…you do?”
She was starting to sound like an idiot. For once, she
couldn’t blame her lack of witty responses on any language barrier. Her husband was confusing her, and filling her with joy at the same time. She rather liked the heady feeling.
“I’ve been working on this for two solid days,” he said. “I wanted to finish before I came to fetch you.”
“You were really coming for me.” She could hear the surprise and wonder in her voice.
Drawing to a stop, he rocked back on his heels.
She didn’t like his sudden silence. “Pete?”
“Was I wrong not to come for you sooner?” He skimmed his gaze over her face.
She knew that look in his eyes, had seen it in her own mirror just this morning. Her big, strong blacksmith husband was feeling vulnerable. “I think we both needed the break.”
“It’s our last one,” he said firmly. “You belong with me.”
“I know.” She placed her hand on his arm. “And I promise, I won’t leave you ever again.”
He heaved a relieved sigh. “And I’ll try not to give you a reason to go. Now, come. It’s time you saw what I’ve been up to in your absence.”
With a lopsided grin, he directed her up the front steps and then stopped again on the edge of the threshold. He stared at the door for a long moment. Clearly, he was contemplating how best to present his “surprise” to her.
She decided to help him out. “Should I close my eyes?”
“That would be nice.”
“Consider it done.” She slapped a hand over her eyes. “But you’ll have to guide me.”
“My pleasure.” He took her hand and tugged her forward.
His warm grip was a solid reminder of his steady, constant presence. Rebecca would never be alone again.
“Keep walking,” he said. “No, not that way, a little to your left. That’s it. Watch your step.”
She placed a tentative toe in the direction he indicated. “This way?”
“Precisely.”
She smiled, feeling surprisingly light-headed as his grip moved past her wrist to rest on her elbow.
“Follow my voice,” he urged.
Taking short, shuffling steps, she continued forward.
“Turn to your right.”
She did as he suggested.
“Okay. Stop.” His hands closed over her shoulders, his touch both firm and tender.
