by B C Yancey
After taking his hat off, he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to go about this.
Glancing down at the paper in his hand, the face of a woman he'd recognize anywhere stared back at him, and he found himself suddenly in the kitchen, her name escaping his lips in a shout.
Anxiety gripped him, twisting his stomach in a knot. If she hadn't told him about this, then what else had she kept from him? Had everything been a lie? Was she playing him false? Had he fallen into some trap that would rip away everything he loved?
Her footsteps matched the rapid staccato of his heart as she came down the stairs. He closed his eyes against the longing that filled him just by hearing her beloved voice while she teased him, and when at last, he saw her, his heart skipped a beat.
There had to be a reason she had lied to him, and he'd try to stay levelheaded enough to hear her out so he could understand why. Why did she find it so hard to trust him, to tell him something he should've known from the very beginning?
Sawyer's heavy winter coat hung unbuttoned as he stood facing her, feet braced apart, a stern look on his face. A stained paper was gripped tightly in his fist. Her eyes darted between the paper and his eyes as she asked, "What's wrong? Is it Charlie?"
Shaking his head, he held the crumpled paper out, "No, it's nothing to do with Charlie." He watched her with shrewd eyes, "I need you to look at this. Doc brought it over."
Glancing at him as she reached to take the paper, she looked down and swayed as the blood drained from her face. She stared at a rendering of herself with the bold caption MISSING written above it. "Where did he get this?" she croaked, trying not to faint.
Sawyer took a deep breath and clenched his jaw, folding his arms across his chest to keep from reaching out to her when he saw her sway. "The Sheriff from your hometown sent it."
"Why did he send it here?" she asked, her voice just barely above a whisper and her mind whirling in panic.
He studied her as he said, "Doc wanted proof that the cousin was actually missing and that the sheriff was telling the truth." He leaned against the table. "The telegram he'd sent Doc never mentioned what your name was, just that the relative in question for Maggie James Sutter had disappeared recently."
Lillian blindly placed the paper on the table, clenching her eyes shut against the hurt in his eyes, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."
"Why?" He seethed, running a hand through his hair, "Why didn't you tell me? You had plenty of opportunities! Why'd you make me find out this way, with Doc burstin' his britches to tell me my wife is none other than the missing cousin of Maggie Sutter?" he finished barely able to contain his anger.
Glancing toward the parlor, she found Kitty and Paul sitting on the top step watching them with worried faces, no doubt hearing every word they said.
She faced Sawyer and replied softly, "You're angry, you have every right to be. But the children can hear you." She walked to the door, not knowing if he would follow her, her panicked mind trying to think of what to tell him to make him not hate her.
Sawyer marched behind her and allowed the door to slam closed behind him before he growled, "Why'd you lie to me?"
She shook her head in denial, "I didn't lie to you, Sawyer." Her fists clenched in her skirt.
"Didn't lie?" he laughed, "Then who are you? Why am I just now finding out who you are?" He advanced on her, his heavy footsteps making the wood porch creak as he snapped, "What's your full name?"
"Lillian James Reid," she glared at him and welcomed the anger in place of the panic that had gripped her.
"What else?" His thick coat parted open as he rested his hands on his hips, "Where do you come from Lillian James Reid?"
Staring ahead, she sighed, "Bristol, New Hampshire."
"Oh, really?" he mocked, "I seem to recall knowing someone who died not too long ago that was also from Bristol, perhaps you know of her? She went by the name of Margaret James." He glared at her expectantly.
Lillian's chin wobbled, "What do you want me to say, Sawyer?" Tears blurred her vision, spilling down her cheeks as she wiped them away and declared, "Yes! Maggie and I were cousins, and no, I didn't tell you. But I never lied to you about it," she cried, "there is a difference between not telling something to someone and lying altogether."
"It's called a lie of omission, Lily, that's what you did." He turned away, unable to bear seeing the tears wetting her cheeks, "Call it what you like, but it's still a lie."
"I'm sorry, I truly am," she wept, covering her face with her hands as the tears flowed freely.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself against his need to comfort her, and asked quietly, "Why? Why didn't you tell me?"
Lillian shook her head and scoffed, "In the beginning?" Wiping at her cheeks, she stared at his back, "I was in a state of shock when I learned of Maggie's death and found out Kitty and Paul were hers. What did I have to offer two young children anyway? I could see how happy they were here with you." She rubbed her brow, "I had left home a few weeks after Richard died, hoping that Maggie would need me."
Lillian helplessly shrugged as she pleaded, "I had no one! Where else was I to go?" She closed her eyes and groaned, "If only I had tried harder to keep in touch with her after she moved, none of this would have happened."
She bit her lip to prevent from saying anything further, but couldn't stop herself from admitting, "And then you said you were getting a lawyer. I couldn't tell you and be able to live with myself later if you lost Kitty and Paul because of me."
He turned to her in confusion, "When did I tell you about getting a lawyer?" He was still reeling from her earlier statement.
Did she regret coming here? Meeting him? He couldn't believe that. He wouldn't believe that. Since getting married, he could no longer deny that he loved her. They had been destined to meet, to be together. The possibility that he was the only one in love sent a chill through him.
"The day you and Doc were yelling and carrying on, the last thing you said was you were going to get a lawyer." Suddenly exhausted, she leaned against the porch railing, "I thought telling you who I was might jeopardize you being able to get custody of the children. So, I kept quiet." She looked out toward the meadow as the sun sank lower in the sky, and her stomach clenched in fear.
If he reacted this way over her not revealing her family ties with Maggie, how would he react if she ever told him the truth about what happened before she was able to escape from Walker? It would be even worse than she'd ever imagined. He would be lost to her forever.
What Doc had said before insisting they get married rang thru Lillian's mind as she watched the sunset; people always had a way of finding things out. No matter how deeply someone tried to bury a secret, somehow, they still managed to find their way into the light.
'I could leave,' she thought, ‘before he learns the truth and any affection he currently harbors for me is lost.' Hoping there was still another way through this, Lillian closed her eyes and searched for the right words that would put everything to rights; unfortunately, there weren't any readily available.
Lillian's voice broke as she said, "I'm sorry I lied to you. I should have told you the truth as soon as I found out about Maggie and the children."
Sawyer stared at the weathered boards of the porch; his thoughts scattered in a thousand different directions. She'd done it for the children. Everything, possibly even marrying him, had been for the children.
He'd been helpless against her setting up camp in his heart all the while everything she'd done up till now, had only been for the children.
If they hadn't been caught kissing, would he have awoken to find her gone? Would she have tried to take the children with her? Had she been waiting for the right moment, after she'd gained their trust, to reveal her true identity and steal them away from him?
He shook his head, irritated by his foolish thoughts; he knew her well enough to know that she spoke the truth. She'd had her reasons for hiding her iden
tity. Reasons that within a couple more months would have made void any familial claim if she hadn't reappeared.
So now what was he supposed to do? If she had married him for the kids, to be able to be near them, could he deny her the only family she had left? He could still legally adopt them. A judge may even look favorably upon him as their guardian, even knowing she was their actual blood kin.
"Say something," she whispered, turning to look at him, "yell at me if you want, but say something."
Sawyer scoffed, "I don't want to yell at you." He finally turned and allowed himself to look at her. Her eyes were red from crying, and yet she still looked beautiful.
She wrapped her arms around her for warmth as a chill wind crept around the house and made her skirt sway against her legs. Her skin was so pale that the scar on her forehead stood out in stark relief.
He let his eyes travel to the arm Doc declared to be healed just moments ago and no longer needed its splint and bandaging. Almost two months they'd known one another, and here he stood angry and hurt that she hadn't trusted him.
He looked into her eyes as a sudden thought pierced his heart, "You were going to leave."
Her eyes grew wide with renewed panic, "What?"
Nodding, he advanced toward her, "You were going to disappear again to allow me to claim them for my own." He gripped her arms and shook her, "Weren't you?"
A sob caught in her throat as she tearfully nodded, "Yes."
"But you didn't, because we got caught kissin'."
"No," she shook her head, her heart beating loudly in her ears. He wouldn't believe her if she told him why she had stayed.
When they'd almost kissed that night in the kitchen she’d tried to leave after he went back to bed, and she failed. She'd tried again the night after that until realizing she would stay until he no longer wanted her near—which could very well be today.
The only thing that had stopped her had been the pain that seized her at never seeing him again. She'd been dressed and wrapped her borrowed shawl and had even packed a little food. But when she’d stood at the front door with her hand on the doorknob, she'd stopped, unable to turn it and leave.
The very thought of never being near Sawyer, of never seeing him smile or hearing him talk, had brought a wave of sickening sadness over her and she'd not been able to turn the handle. Looking back now, she could admit that was the first moment she knew she'd fallen in love with him.
"Then why?" he whispered. His hands cradled her face as he stared into her eyes, "If we hadn't been caught—would you still be here?"
Her mouth would not open; she couldn't command it to utter the words that begged to leap free. 'Yes!' she wanted to cry, 'I would still be here. I love you.' But her tongue refused her pleas to speak, allowing him to believe the worst of her.
Clenching his jaw so tightly a muscle ticked, Sawyer let her go and stepped away, "I need to go check on somethin'. I'll be back in a little while."
Lillian watched him walk to the barn, saw him disappear inside, and waited for him to re-emerge. Minutes passed. Shivers wracked her body as she stood on the porch, waiting to see him leave her.
Unable to bear the cold any longer, she headed back into the house and began preparing dinner. Keeping her eye on the barn, Lillian waited to see if Sawyer would appear.
With dinner ready, she called for Paul and Kitty to come down and then waited several minutes after to see if Sawyer would show.
Kitty's tone was more subdued than usual when she asked, "Where's Papa?" She handed her plate to Lillian and watched her dish up some food. Somberly, Kitty took the plate back and set it in front of her, waiting for an answer. Her hands clenched in her lap under the table.
Lillian plopped a spoonful of potatoes onto Paul's plate before replying, "He said he needed to go check on something, he'll be back a little later tonight." She finished dishing everything then handed his plate over to him, before taking her own.
"Did you two fight?" Paul asked, not touching his food.
Smiling sadly, Lillian nodded, "We did."
"Was it about us? Our other Papa used to get awful mad about us with our Mama before she died." He picked up his fork and pushed his food around on his plate.
Any minute now she was gonna tell them what he'd feared all along, that they'd grown tired of them getting underfoot and wanted them to go away.
Reaching over and taking his hand in hers, Lillian waited until he looked at her, "It wasn't anything at all about you two, Paul. I did something I shouldn't have."
"What'd you do, Mama?" Kitty asked, "Did you burn Papa's food? Is that why he's not eatin' with us?"
Lillian couldn't help but smile, "No, sweetie, it wasn't that," she looked at both of them, "I told a lie, and I shouldn't have."
Kitty's eyes were wide with worry as she whispered to Paul, "Lyin's bad, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is." Lillian picked up her fork, "Let's eat dinner; perhaps your Papa will be done soon and come eat before we finish." She met and held Paul's unrelenting gaze as he tried to give her a reassuring smile before he took a bite of his dinner.
Chapter Seventeen
After glancing back to the stairs to make sure the children hadn't snuck out of their bed, Lillian left the house and headed toward the barn. A soft glow came from the window of the bunkhouse, which meant the men were still up, and Lillian briefly
wondered if Sawyer was with them.
Wanting to spare herself the embarrassment of not knowing where her husband was at this late hour, she decided to check the barn first.
Entering into the darkness, broken only by soft beams of moonlight from the door and several windows above, she slowly walked past the stalls and down to the tack room listening carefully for any sound that would alert her to where Sawyer had gone.
After not seeing him or any sign he'd even been there, she turned and headed back to the house. Perhaps he'd left through the back, and that was why she hadn't seen him leave the property.
When Jethro emerged from the shadows of his stall and nudged against her for affection, Lillian petted his velvet nose. If Jethro was here, Sawyer was as well, but where was he hiding? Hay drifted through the boards above as if in answer to her unspoken question, falling in front of her.
She looked toward the ladder leading up to the loft three stalls away and wondered if she'd stumbled upon his location after all.
Chewing her lip in indecision, she quietly walked over and gathered her skirts in hand before carefully ascending the ladder.
Sawyer stared out over the West pasture, his boot-clad feet dangling from the hay door, as he tried not to think—of anything. He just wanted to watch the sky change color until dark overtook it completely, and then watch the stars.
He was glad he'd kept his coat on; it was cold enough that each breath formed little puffs, and his nose was tingling from the chill. The savory aroma of beef and potatoes reached him and knew Lillian was making dinner.
For a moment, he thought about going in. His stomach grumbled—reminding him he hadn't eaten since that morning. But, the moment passed, and he found himself staring at the sky instead, wondering what it was about him that made it so hard for Lillian to trust him.
He wouldn't deny any longer that he loved her; he'd probably loved her from the very beginning. No, he wouldn't deny it, but neither was he about to go spouting sonnets and singing songs or shouting it from the rooftops. Not when the very woman he craved didn't return it.
And he did crave her, he admitted, adjusting his legs. He needed her the way flowers required sunshine. He physically ached with his want of her. But, she'd practically admitted that she wouldn't still be here if she hadn't married him. She would have left and taken his heart with her, thoroughly ruining him for any other chance at finding happiness.
Blowing out an irritated breath, he scratched his head and stared out at the full moon, willing himself to stop running over the same thoughts he'd been trying not to think for the last several hours.
He had fallen desperately in love with her, and as far as he knew, she tolerated him. Lillian liked him enough to marry him and allow him into her bed, and now he was completely vulnerable.
What he needed was to come up with a plan on how to fix it.
He needed to gain her trust, get her to love him, and then be able to let her leave him if he wasn't able to accomplish it.
"May I sit with you?" Lillian asked timidly, walking up behind him.
Glancing over his shoulder, he twisted at the waist and watched as she emerged into the shaft of moonlight he sat in. "If you'd like." He scooted over to allow her room, "Are the kids asleep?"
She nodded, sitting down next to him, "They tried staying up to see you." She straightened her skirts around her as her feet dangled over the edge, "They were worried we'd been fighting about them."
He grimaced, "I'm sorry about that."
Lillian studied him, "Are you hungry? I have a plate warming for you on the stove."
He nodded absently and murmured, "Thank you,"
They sat in silence, each lost in their thoughts as they tried to find neutral topics to discuss, but found they didn't have the heart to make polite conversation when so much stood unresolved between them. Lillian closed her eyes, listened to the crickets chirping, and smiled when an owl hooted in the distance.
Sawyer watched her, ignoring the desire to comfort his aching heart by holding or kissing her. She was beautiful. Not like his Jane had been, but it didn't surprise him that he would compare the two and find them so opposite one another. Every aspect of this marriage—of this woman—was vastly different from what there had been with Jane.
Maybe that was why he was struggling so much with understanding her.
He'd known Jane his whole life; loved her, watched her mature into a grown woman, and wept when she'd taken her last breath in his arms. The love they'd shared had been as tender as dandelion seeds floating in the wind accompanied by sweet music. Gentle just as Jane had been.
Lillian however—he shook his head with a wry twist to his mouth. Lillian made him so mad sometimes he didn't know if he wanted to shout or kiss the breath clean out of her.
