by Jillian Hart
But with Mariah… She wasn’t at all the way she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be a woman who didn’t need him. A woman who didn’t make him need. But look at her. He could see her through the window standing at the stove, looking desirable and incredible and sincere. He could feel what she wanted. What she needed. Limitless love and attention and promises of forever.
He wasn’t the man to give that to her. To any woman.
Disliking himself for it, he stomped through the mud, turning his thoughts to the work waiting for him. But the image of Mariah remained burned in his mind.
Mariah ladled the poached eggs onto the platter, listening to the clamor of the men shucking off their jackets and boots. Georgie had woken in a teary mood and Joey still hadn’t come down from his room, although she’d called him. Maybe now that the men were here, he’d make an appearance. She considered sending Nick up to fetch him, since it had to be hard for the boy, with his grief for his mother so fresh. It was natural he’d have a hard time seeing another woman at the stove where his mother had cooked breakfast.
She’d need to think of some way to reassure Joey. To let him know she understood. She’d put that problem to the back of her mind and work on it. The right solution would come to her. In the meantime…
“Where’s Nick?”
Will glanced up from the table and fidgeted. “Well, uh, he’s staying with one of the mares.”
“Oh.” That probably happened on a ranch. Horses fell ill and needed care. “I’ll be sure and set aside a plate for him, so he can come eat when one of you goes to spell him.”
“Uh…” Will rubbed his head, looking more uncomfortable. “Fact is, he won’t be comin’ in at all. Lots of work this morning.”
“That’s a fact.” Pop spoke up while the other brother, the quiet and kind of scary Dakota, lifted one dark brow and shook his head.
Nick wasn’t avoiding her. That wouldn’t make any sense. He needed his breakfast. But her stomach twisted as she reached for a plate and began to fill it from the stove. She grabbed a second plate and filled it, too, working quick since the men were waiting.
He’d been distant last night and more distant this morning. He hadn’t looked at her when he’d taken the pail of cold water to wash with, instead of the warm. Instead of the water she’d offered.
He wasn’t used to her taking care of him, that was all. It had to remind him of Lida and the love they shared. That was it. Mariah felt a little better as she handed Jeb the platter of sausage and ham. Nick wasn’t rejecting her. He was hurting, and it was her job to help him.
She rescued the toast and stack of French toast from the warmer and put on a fresh pot of coffee to brew since Jeb had clunked the empty pot on the table. She grabbed the plate she’d filled for Nick and grabbed her shawl from the peg by the door.
“Hey, where you goin’ with that?” Will rose from his chair. “Uh, you’re not takin’ that to Nick, are you?”
“Thought I might. He’s bound to be hungry.” Mariah slung the length of wool over her shoulders, wondering why Will was acting so strange. Then again, he usually did act uncomfortable around her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Mariah—” Jeb called her name, but she was already out the door, moving forward down the porch stairs when maybe she should have gone back.
She wondered what Jeb had to say with every step she took toward the horse stable. That bad feeling in the pit of her stomach cinched up a notch. Maybe she should have let one of the men bring the plate.
She was too proud to turn around now, so she kept going. Stepping around the mud puddles and into the serene comfort of the stable. The sweet scent of hay and the comfortable scent of warm horseflesh were a pleasant greeting. She traipsed down the main aisle, looking for a sick horse.
She found her husband, instead. Sitting on a grain barrel gazing out the back double doors, both open to a view of the rolling plains and the endless horizon. The way he sat there, elbows on his knees, face in his hands, there was a sense of defeat. Of something terribly wrong.
“Nick?” The horse had died. Maybe with Lida’s death, that was too much to lose. She hated that he was hurting and rushed toward him.
Until he turned his weary gaze on her. And felt his dread when he looked at her, saw his wariness written on his handsome, haggard face. He didn’t want to see her. He looked at the plate heaped with food in her hands and then turned away, staring hard at the distant horizon. As if that’s where he most wanted to be.
“You might not feel like eating, so I’ll leave this.” There was a clunk of the plate as she set it on a nearby molasses barrel. “Will told me about the horse and I’m…sorry. That’s a sad loss.”
He shook his head. “Thanks, Mariah, but the horse is fine.”
“Oh, good.” She sounded confused.
Why wouldn’t she be? She was doing her best to be a good wife and all that entailed, and he didn’t want her to be. Nick raked his face with his hands, soul-weary and out of excuses. He didn’t know what to do to right things. But he wasn’t about to lie. “I just said that because I didn’t feel like sitting up to the table this morning.”
“I see.”
He was hurting her, damn it, and he hated that. Wished there was a better way, but he wasn’t going to pretend. He wasn’t going to let her keep thinking… Hell, he didn’t really know what she was thinking. Whatever he said, it was going to hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted to do. She leaned against the wall, and if he turned his head a scant inch, he brought her into his side vision.
Oh, the sight of her. It made his chest wrench so hard, it was likely to drop him to the ground. She was a vision in that dress, the same color of a newly risen sun, soft and gentle and glowing. This was the woman who’d been hiding beneath the black shapeless dresses and the stern manner. Not a prickly woman who would make a better housekeeper than a wife, but a vibrant woman of wants and needs.
And he wanted her. He needed her. His teeth ached with it. His bones hurt from it. His soul longed for her with a power that scared him.
Wanting and needing her would be the biggest mistake of his life.
But he wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t say one word to diminish her.
He had no notion what he was going to do. He only knew he had to do something. He had to stop wanting her. Stop craving her. Stop dreaming of having the right to hold her close and naked, intimate and loving.
He wasn’t going to open up the shredded pieces of his heart. He was never going to give up his power to a woman, no matter how strong and kind and beautiful.
“I’m having a tough morning,” he told her, instead. “I appreciate the plate of food. It was thoughtful of you.”
“I’m taking care of you, the way you take care of me. I’ve never thanked you for building the morning fire. It’s good of you, Nick.” Her hand brushed his shoulder. A brief connection that he wanted to reach out and cling to.
But what shelter can there be from the storms of life? Women disappointed you. All he had to do was look around. Pop’s marriages had been disasters, the last one running off with a book salesman.
As for his marriage to Lida…
He could still see the empty bed and how the moonlight fell through the window, marking the indentation in the feather tick where Lida’s weight had been. The hollow chill in the center of his gut that remained while his mind thought up every reason, every disaster, any other excuse why Lida wasn’t in her bed. Except the real one.
And that one no one outside the family knew. The shame tore him apart. Lida’s words haunted him, her accusations, her belittling, and the angry names she’d hurled at him when it suited her mood. Barbed weapons that cut deep and made wounds that never healed. He’d never satisfied her. Not materially and not in bed when he’d given her his heart… She hadn’t minded telling him exactly how clumsy he was when he’d found her in her lover’s bed, a married man who kept a room above his store in town. You could never satisfy me, Nick, so I found someone who could….
No, he was never going to let anyone that close. And with the way he felt about Mariah…the devastation would be worse.
“I need to be alone,” he told her. “I’d appreciate it.”
She withdrew without a word, and his shoulder ached where she’d touched him. Ached for the soft comfort, for that connection that made him feel.
Her step hesitated at the end of the aisle. He winced, realizing she wasn’t going to leave just yet. She had to drag this out, and he couldn’t take it. He wanted her. And looking at her would only make that want magnify.
“Nick?”
“Yep.”
“If you ever need to talk about Lida, will you let me know? I know you loved her.” Mariah waited in the silence that followed while her words echoed in the loft and high rafters above.
Nick didn’t answer, so she tried again. “You said we needed to have respect for one another. And friendship. I hope you know you can talk to me. As a…friend.”
Another beat of silence seemed to sink her confidence right down to her toes. She was probably assuming too much from this man who was full of sorrow, who looked at her and couldn’t help but be reminded of the woman he’d lost.
Sad for him, she turned to go. Whatever it took, she’d take care of him. Leave, if that was best for him. Stay, if it wasn’t.
She took one step. Another. Kept going.
He didn’t call her back.
He didn’t need her. Fine. Then she’d go back to the house, make sure his family got enough to eat, his children were cared for and his house kept clean. She’d do whatever it took. For Nick. Because she loved him more every day.
Joey crossed his arms over his chest—a perfect imitation of his father, and equally as stubborn—as he stood in his room and glared at her. But it wasn’t defiance or hatred in his gaze as he watched her put a stack of shirts on his bureau to put away. It was pain.
“Your pa has the horses hitched and waiting.” She smoothed the top shirt on the stack. “Georgie and I are almost ready. I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.”
Joey nodded, wordless. The ache in him was so big it felt as tangible as the floor she stood on and the door she pulled closed. Nick’s son. Joey was so like him. The shock of dark hair that rose like a cornstalk out of the center of his head fell forward over his brow, just like his father’s. Joey had a brow like Nick’s, a high and wide forehead, a finely shaped blade of a nose and a dimple in the middle of his chin.
A strange warmth, like the one she felt for Georgie, burned in her chest. This was her stepson. Hers, whether he liked it or not. She was going to take care of him, too. She was going to take care of all of them.
If they let her. She stopped at the hall window to gaze out at the lush green prairie below. There was Nick, his shirt stripped off in the sun, bare-chested while he worked, his head bent, his Stetson hiding his face, his muscles straining as he swung a sledgehammer. What a man.
Her blood turned to melted butter, and she grabbed the windowsill for support. She’d never seen a man without his shirt on before. Never. And the sight…why, Nick was something to behold. He was bronzed by the sun from his head to the waistband of his Levi’s. When he lifted the sledgehammer, every muscle in his broad back and in his iron-hewn arms flexed. Like poetry, he moved with pleasing precision, a functional beauty that made desire curl hard in her abdomen.
How would it feel to touch him? Would his skin be hot as the sun? Slightly rough against her fingertips? She longed to find out. He’s your husband. You can touch him if you want.
If only she could. She closed her eyes. Her need for him pounded hard as waves on the shore, lifting her up, letting her down. Please, one day let Nick fall in love me.
It took all her willpower to tear away from the sight of Nick at work. Harder still to turn from the only window in the house that had such a good view of him. That husband of hers was mighty fine. Mighty fine, indeed. It was going to be hard not to think of him all afternoon long.
Georgie’s bedroom door was wide open, giving a view of the girl seated at her miniature table in a matching ladder-back chair. There were several items lined up on the tabletop. A nightgown. A handful of colorful hair ribbons. A few shiny copper pennies. Her rag doll. There was a satchel at Georgie’s feet, open. The girl worked carefully and methodically, putting each item into the bag so it was just right before reaching for the next.
Mariah knelt in front of Georgie, the satchel between them. “Why are you packing?”
“Cuz we’re goin’ to town.” Georgie bent forward, her golden curls tumbling like sunshine everywhere. With her hand full of pennies, she carefully considered where to put them.
“Why do you need your satchel in town?”
“Just ’cuz.” Georgie moved aside a stuffed bear and lowered the pennies to the bottom of the bag. They clinked together, a strange and tinny sound.
That was how Mariah’s heart felt. Georgie still wanted to run off? Mariah tried not to take it personally. Georgie’s heart had been broken long before Mariah had come to live here.
The girl grabbed her pile of hair ribbons and dropped them in her lap. “How long is heaven away from town?”
“It’s farther than any horse can travel.”
“How ’bout your ox?” The satin strips were twisted and knotted, so she took time to pull a red ribbon from the tangle and smoothed it over her knee.
“It’s too far for an ox.” Mariah rubbed a tear from Georgie’s cheek with the pad of her thumb.
The child said nothing after that. She straightened each hair ribbon, until all dozen were in a neat pile on her knee. Satisfied, she laid them gently on the stuffed bear’s stomach, where they would ride well on the trip to heaven.
“We don’t have much time. We’ve got to be in town soon.” Mariah reached with her fingertips to grab the wool throw from the foot of the girl’s bed. “Would it be all right if I helped you pack?”
“You got any cookies?” Tears trailed down her cheeks as she watched Mariah fold the blanket. “I’m gonna need cookies ’cuz I’ll get hungry.”
“We’ll pick up any food you’re going to need in town. We can stop by the bakery.”
Georgie nodded somberly.
“Let’s see what you have.” Mariah inspected the contents of the bag. “Let’s put your nightgown right here. You’ve got something to sleep in. You’re going to need fresh underthings and another dress.”
Mariah tugged open the top drawer of the small bureau and withdrew the small garments. “And a sweater. The nights are still chilly sometimes. You may need your best shoes.”
Mariah loaded her arm with every heavy thing she could think of, including a few books. “It’s too bad you’re going to leave. I’m really going to miss you.”
Georgie sniffed.
“Your brother is sure going to be sad you’ve gone. And your pa. I bet he sits down and cries when he finds out you’re gone. We’re going to be awful sad without you.”
Georgie sniffled harder.
The satchel was small and was quickly filled, and Mariah zipped it shut. “There. You’re packed. Are you ready?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Is there anything else you want to take? Anything you’ll miss?”
Georgie’s eyes filled with big silver tears. “No.”
“Oh, I know. We forgot your boots. You may need to cross a few creeks on the way. We’ll remember to grab those when we’re downstairs.” Gently, Mariah took Georgie’s hand. “C’mon, grab your satchel and let’s go.”
“Okay.” Tears shone in her eyes as she stood. She gulped hard, to keep from crying. Her hand curled around the big strap.
“C’mon.” Mariah took a step toward the door, holding tight to the girl’s other hand.
“I can’t.” Those tears fell like anguish. “It’s too heavy. It won’t come up!” Sobs shook her fragile shoulders. “I miss my mama.”
“I know. I’m sure she misses you, too.”
Georgie gave anothe
r tug on the much too heavy satchel. “She left me. She left. She left.”
“Poor baby.” Mariah pulled the girl into her arms and held her tight.
Frail arms wrapped around Mariah’s neck and clutched tightly. Georgie’s little fingers bit into the skin at Mariah’s nape, but she didn’t care. The pain was nothing compared to the fierce emotion consuming her. The intense need to keep this child safe, to hold her forever, to never let her go.
“What’s goin’ on in here?” Nick’s baritone boomed into the room.
“Pa!” Georgie leaped out of Mariah’s arms and ran to her father.
“Guess you packed again. I sure hope you’re gonna stay with us, princess.” Nick scooped her up against his big bare chest and cradled his daughter tenderly. Protectively. He pressed a fatherly kiss into the crown of her head.
Georgie’s sobs began to ease.
“Maybe that worked. Maybe this will be the last time she does this. Thanks, Mariah.”
“I didn’t do anything. Just filled a satchel.”
“A satchel she can’t leave with.” He cradled Georgie’s head in his big hand, holding her as tenderly as a newborn to his chest.
What would it be like to have Nick’s child? The single wish surprised her. The longing came to life, filling her with a sharp yearning. She had two stepchildren she cared about very much. She would be happy taking care of them for as long as they needed her, say another ten or twelve years. But the idea of having another child…
A baby. Her very own baby, hers and Nicks. Maybe more than one, as the years passed. Who knew what the future held? Maybe a large family for the woman who’d never had a real one. The yearning within her expanded, filling her with dreams of children yet to be born, with names yet to be found. The dream of her and Nick happy and in love, and the new life that came from that love.
“I’m glad I married you, pretty lady.” Nick reached out with his free hand and hauled her against the side of his bare chest. Bare and hot and brown from the sun…
Mariah closed her eyes, drinking in the wonder of coming against his naked chest. Desire coiled tight deep within her, and she ignored it. Just held him tight. Breathed in the pleasant scent of his salty male skin. “I’m glad I married you, too. So very glad.”
