by Ava Winters
Jacob laughed. “I’m a man who made a big mistake,” he said gently, holding her gaze. “And I know it now, and I’m doin’ all I can to make things right and show the woman I love that I want her in my life again, and I’ll do anythin’ I have to in order to get her back.”
Jacob reached for her hand, but Layla skirted away from him.
“Your words don’t make any of this true,” she answered. “I believed you when we met, and you lied. You never took me to the places you said you would. We never were what you promised. All I ever did was clean after you and your boys,” she cried. “I was nothing more but your housekeeper. I was never your wife.”
“I was younger and foolish,” Jacob answered. “I thought that was all I needed. Then you left, and I realized you were so much more. I realized how much it meant to me to have you to come home to. The way you made the house a home, even with everyone in it, you made it a place we wanted to be at the end of the day. You don’t know what it was like, wakin’ and you weren’t there. Goin’ to bed and the other side of the mattress was empty. I never knew what that emptiness felt like until you were gone.”
“My whole life became empty because you were gone,” Jacob continued. “You had become my whole life, Layla, I just didn’t know it. I didn’t know so much that I know now. My whole life’s different. I’ve got myself a claim. I’m gonna mine and build my own homestead.”
A new place for you and your boys to plan your crimes.
“The boys aren’t gonna be there,” Jacob continued, as if he’d read her mind. “They aren’t gonna be a part of my life like before. I told ‘em that I’m done with that life, and I mean it. I told ‘em that I want you back and I’m turnin’ my life around.”
Layla swallowed the lump in her throat. Her head felt light; Jacob’s words were dizzying. It didn’t make sense. It was as if the man she’d known had disappeared, and someone new had arrived in his place. This man, who looked at her so sorrowfully and spoke the words she’d hoped for two years to hear, seemed like someone entirely different.
Her heart was beating hard in her ears, and her mind felt clouded with confusion. “Jacob…I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say nothin’,” Jacob answered. “I just want you to know that I’m not givin’ up on us, Layla. I’m gonna show you that I’m a different man, and I’m gonna make you love me again.”
“Jacob,” Layla said quickly.
“I know don’t you love me,” Jacob replied with equal rapidity. “I made it that way.” He smiled sadly. “You loved me in the beginnin’,” he said. “You can love me again. I know it might take some time and all, but I’m sure I can make you love me again because I love you,” he insisted. “I really do love you, Layla.”
It was too much. “I have to go,” she said quickly as her feet started to move. Layla’s entire body tensed as she passed Jacob, sure he would do something to stop her, the way he always did when she tried to escape him. He didn’t. Layla didn’t stop. She didn’t turn around. She just kept walking.
It was several minutes before Layla finally slowed down. Her heart was thundering in her ears and chest, and her breathing was quick and shallow as she stood outside the general store. Her mind felt so muddled she could hardly remember what it was she came for. She took a few minutes to collect herself.
“Are yah alright, Miss McCarthy?” Ferdinand St. John, the store owner asked as he came out to meet her.
Trembling, Layla couldn’t find the words to answer.
“Come in here,” he instructed as he took her by the arm and helped her inside and to a chair. “Sit yourself right there, I’ll get yah some water.” He left a stunned Layla still trying to recover her senses.
Layla breathed deeply as her mind relentlessly went over what Jacob told her. He loved her. He was sorry. He knew he had treated her badly. It was all so confusing and unexpected. She didn’t know what to do with herself under the circumstances. Was Jacob telling the truth? Was he lying? How could she know? Did it even matter?
“Here,” Ferdinand said, pushing a glass of water in front of her. “Take this.”
Layla’s hands reached for the glass and she began to drink quickly.
“Slow down,” Ferdinand said with a laugh. “You’ll give yerself the hiccups,” he added as he stood next to her with his hand on the back of her chair.
Layla forced herself to do as he asked. “Thank you,” she said as she took a deep breath.
“Don’t mention it,” Ferdinand replied. “Feelin’ better?” He was watching her closely, and Layla felt slightly uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene or call attention to herself, yet it was precisely what she’d managed to do.
Layla nodded. “Yes.”
“Wanna tell me what happened to yah?” Ferdinand asked as Layla handed the glass back to him.
She smiled weakly. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I was just walking down here and I started feeling very hot and dizzy.”
Ferdinand pressed the back of his hand to her head. He was an older man, maybe twenty years her senior, married with two small daughters. “Yah don’t feel hot. Still, don’t mean you ain’t sick,” he continued. “Maybe you should head back home? You can tell me what yah was comin’ for and I’ll get it together and have it brought to Annabelle’s,” he offered.
Layla shakily took the list from her skirt pocket and handed it to Ferdinand. “This is the list Miss Annabelle gave me,” she told him.
Ferdinand looked over the list. “Yah just need the prices or yah buyin’ these things now?”
“Just the prices,” Layla answered. “We just wanna know how much it will all cost to get the house repairs done. Mr. Donovan’s comin’ over later to tell us how much the repairs will be.”
“I can write the prices down for yah, then I’ll close the store for lunch and walk yah home,” Ferdinand suggested as he got to his feet.
“You don’t have to do that,” Layla insisted.
“Nonsense. Yer in no shape to be walkin’ back home on yer own. I can take you. What kinda man would I be if I let yah go home in such a state? I’d never forgive myself if somethin’ happened to yah and I could’ve done somethin’,” he answered. “Just wait there and I’ll be right back.”
Layla didn’t have the energy to persist in her argument. If Ferdinand wanted to walk her home, then she’d let him. She really wasn’t in any place to argue. Her mind was conflicted and her heart was hurting. Her hand folded into a fist over her heart.
What was she going to do? Days before, she was ready to move forward, but now Jacob was saying all the right things. Was it right to ignore it and file for divorce for the things he’d done to her? Or did she owe it to her marriage to try one more time?
What about Peter? He’s been good to you all along, and he cares about you. You care about him. That doesn’t change because Jacob’s saying the right things.
What was she going to do? Her mind and heart were conflicted. What was the right thing to do, under such circumstances? Did she follow her heart? The vows she’d already made? Or was there no right answer?
“Alright, let’s get yah home,” Ferdinand’s happy voice interrupted her troubled thoughts.
Layla got to her feet and tried to smile, but it was pathetic and she soon stopped trying. “Thank you,” she said as she took the list from him. She glanced at the prices absently, but then just put the note away. She needed to clear her mind before she got home and Annabelle realized something was wrong. Layla needed to figure out what she truly wanted in life, and where that happiness lay.
Chapter Eleven
Peter sat on his horse, looking down the Amcook Bluff to the mining camp below. It was the place he’d often found himself since learning of the true identity of Jacob McCarthy, and his intentions.
His golden brown eyes looked down at the men working in Amcook Creek below. In the years since he’d come to live in Richstone, Peter never had any reason to come there to watch the men w
ho camped and worked nearby. Now, he did.
Peter sat in the saddle with his arms crossed in front of him. He looked at each man, trying to pinpoint which one was Jacob. It didn’t take long to find him, his blond hair easily gave him away. Peter peered intently at that blond head.
What do you want?
He didn’t believe for one second Jacob was staying in town for anything good. The man had a plan; his kind always did. The question was, what was it?
Peter had already checked with people in town, and the surrounding areas, to find out if they knew anything about Jacob or the men that traveled with him. No one had an inkling, and so far, the news on them was only good. Still, Peter wasn’t sure about it. He had that feeling, and he knew something wasn’t right with them.
He stayed on the bluff, with the sun beating down on him with a vengeance. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck as Peter wiped his brow with a handkerchief. Still, he remained in place, watching the man who was threatening Layla’s happiness.
Peter not only watched Jacob at the mine, but also when he came into town. He did his best to be surreptitious with it. He didn’t want Layla worrying, but he paid attention. He saw the way he kept visiting the saloon, and how Layla tried her best to avoid him. She kept her distance at first, but Jacob didn’t stop. He kept coming around and trying to catch her eye. And Peter kept his eye on Jacob.
The day was getting on, and Peter knew it was time for him to call it quits. He had work to do in town and he couldn’t watch Jacob all the time. He turned his horse from the bluff and headed for home.
The ride back to town took longer than usual. It had nothing to do with the time or the pace of his horse, but everything to do with Peter himself. His mind wasn’t easy and everything seemed to take longer.
Layla was in his thoughts all the time. He kept wondering how he could help her. Watching Jacob was one thing, but that didn’t get him out of her life. Though Peter had some questions on that point.
A week had passed since their talk in the office, but since that day he’d heard nothing about Layla approaching any of the solicitors in town about a divorce. Didn’t she plan to file for the separation and end the marriage? Or was Jacob’s attention getting to her? Peter didn’t like it.
He did everything he could to keep Jacob at bay, but Peter couldn’t be everywhere all the time. There were some good things about Jacob’s presence. Nearly every day, Peter had a reason to go to Annabelle’s house to meet Layla to escort her to work or walk her home. On those days, he got to enjoy the pleasure of her company and the warmth of her smiles. Sometimes, he got to walk with her hand in his, if only for a second, to help her over a puddle or if she tripped and stumbled. It was ridiculous, but he looked forward to those times, those opportunities to hold her again in some small way.
But since Layla told him about Jacob, he’d done his best to keep things cordial and above board, to keep his feelings buried. It wasn’t easy. Layla evoked emotions in him that Peter enjoyed. He loved laughing. He loved how light she made him feel. It was addictive, and he was sure that the feeling was mutual.
Peter arrived in town early in the afternoon. His stomach was growling, but he had a few things to do in the office before he could think about getting anything to eat. He tied his horse outside the sheriff’s office and walked inside, where he found Bill standing by the stove with a pot of coffee in his hands.
“I was wonderin’ when you’d get back,” Bill said as he poured himself a cup of the dark, rich brew. Peter was happy they’d decided to repair the old potbelly stove that was a fixture at the center of the room. The sheriff’s office didn’t have much in it: four cells and a large desk that Peter and Bill shared, with a wheeled chair on either side of the large oak table. There was a formal writing desk in the corner for bulletins and notices and such, but mostly they just shared the large table and looked out of one of the six windows that lined the room.
“I just stopped in before going to get some lunch at the saloon. You want anything?” Peter asked as he hung his hat on the stand by the door.
“The missus made me lunch today, but thanks all the same,” Bill replied as he hobbled back to his desk. “You’ve been riding out to Amcook Bluff pretty regularly. Something goin’ on I should know about?” Bill peered at Peter over the top of his cup.
“Just something I’m checking up on,” Peter admitted.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Bill asked. “If it’s bothering you enough for you to ride out there nearly every day, it’s worth knowing.”
Peter looked at Bill. He took a deep breath and walked to his seat, looked across the table to his partner and decided to just tell him. “I’ve been watching someone.”
Bill looked at him calmly. “Go on,” he said, sipping his coffee.
“His name is Jacob McCarthy. He’s Layla’s husband.”
One moment, Bill was calm, and the next, coffee was spewing in Peter’s direction. “Her what?” he exclaimed.
“Layla’s husband,” Peter repeated bitterly as Bill attempted to clean up the mess he’d made.
“A husband? She’s married?”
“That’s what having a husband usually means,” Peter retorted.
“Of course, but what I meant is how did you find out about this?” Bill continued as he dabbed up the remnants of coffee that had splattered their desk and the few pieces of paperwork that sat between them.
“A couple of weeks now,” Peter admitted.
“And it took you this long to tell me?” Bill said. He sat back in his seat. “That isn’t like you, to keep things from me.”
“I know,” Peter replied as he met Bill’s eyes. “But I promised Layla I wouldn’t say anything. She didn’t want anyone to know that she’s married to the likes of McCarthy,” he explained. “The man is no man. He treated her badly. Hurt her.”
Bill’s face was grave at Peter’s words. “I see. You think he’s here to cause trouble?”
“I don’t know, but I gotta feeling, Bill. I had it the moment he walked into my saloon, even before I knew who he was. He’s trouble, and he’s either here to bring trouble to town or to Layla. And either way, I’m not having it.”
Bill nodded. “Agreed. I’ve learned well enough to trust your hunches. You got a gift for knowing when something’s up. Even with Layla, you said there was something, and I suppose this was it.”
Peter took a deep breath. He had believed there was trouble following Layla, and as usual, he was right. Why couldn’t he have been wrong, just this one time?
“What is Layla saying?” Bill was calm again and the coffee was getting into his mouth instead of on their desk.
“She’s scared. She cried in my arms,” he admitted as he met Bill’s eye. “I held her in my arms and felt her body shake with tears and fear. She wants to end this thing with him, but she’s afraid. I told her she’s got to do the right thing if she wants her freedom: she has to divorce him.”
“Has she seen a solicitor about it?”
“I don’t think so,” Peter answered. “And I haven’t had the heart to ask her.” His chin dropped. “It can’t be easy to do that, you know? Marriage is sacred; it’s a lifelong commitment to most people. I don’t know if I could just decide to up and file for divorce, no matter what happened.”
“But you said he’s hurt her,” Bill said. “That sounds like grounds to me.”
“Yes, it may be. But it doesn’t make it any easier, I don’t think. Plus, if she was scared enough to run away to escape him, then she might be too scared to do this,” Peter explained.
“Then why don’t you help her?” Bill encouraged. He set his cup aside and looked at his deputy intently.
“I can’t,” Peter said quickly. “She has to make this choice for herself.”
Bill nodded silently. “So you can know she doesn’t still want to be married.”
Peter stared at him. Bill had hit the nail on the head. “You know me too well.”
“That I do. Which is why
I can guess what you’re feeling right now,” Bill added. “I’m sorry.”
Peter forced a laugh and leaned back in his seat. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Because I know how you feel about that girl,” Bill answered. “Finding out she’s another man’s wife can’t be easy. Especially knowing that she has yet to file for divorce from the man.” He leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk before him. “I know you must be wondering whether she really wants to be free of him, or if there’s a chance that she still loves him.”
“She doesn’t,” Peter said sharply as he sat forward. His heart sped up as he looked at Bill. He wasn’t sure why his friend’s statement had made him responds in such a way, and he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Bill just looked at him.
