"No?"
"I'm called Andrea now."
"I like Andi Mae better," he said, his thumb tracing circles against the back of her wrist causing a ripple of heat to ebb up her arm. "But Andi will do."
Withdrawing her hand deliberately, she settled it back over her belly. "I'm not a girl anymore, Jesse."
"Apparently not." Thunder cracked nearby followed by a streak of lightning that flickered through the lace curtains at the window.
And I'm long past the days when my knees went weak from just being beside you, Jesse.
Jesse reached down for her fallen pistol on the floor at his feet. He broke open the pistol to reveal the empty chambers. "Who were you expecting?"
She twisted the quilt in her hand. "There have been some Confederate raiders hitting farms in the area." It was not untrue, she reasoned, but also not completely accurate. "When you walked in I thought—"
He frowned. "I'm sorry I scared you, but to be honest, you were the last person I expected to find here."
She released the breath she'd been holding. "And you're the last person I expected to see." She clutched the damp sheet in her hands. "But I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't come." She looked away, ashamed to admit what she was about to. "I... I'm scared, Jesse."
He shook his head and threaded his fingers around hers. "I know. I'm not going anywhere. What are you doing here all alone like this, Andi? Where's your husband?"
A soundless, mirthless laugh came from her throat. "A husband? You never knew, did you?"
He frowned. "Knew what?"
"No. Of course not. You've been gone... what, five... no, six years now?"
Jesse stiffened at the accusation in her voice. "Yeah, that's about right. What didn't I know?"
"Zach," she said. "Zach was my husband."
Jesse felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. Zach and Andi... married? Damn. His own brother had married and he hadn't been told? The pain that had been inside him since his mother's letter had reached him three weeks ago bubbled to the surface. Zach was dead. A statistic of a war he should never have fought in.
"Zach never wrote," he said flatly.
"Oh, he wrote. Even I wrote you a letter. But you never answered."
Jesse felt the blood leave his face. "I never got them. Are you sure?"
She stared at him coolly.
"I... I've moved around a lot," he said. "Mail hasn't been too reliable until the last few years up in Montana. Stage robberies, mailsacks stolen..."
Her gaze slid away and fixed her eyes on the gathering storm outside the window. "That must be why we never heard from you."
"I wrote. The first year. But my letters were returned unopened. The old man's handiwork, I assume," he said, standing up to escape whatever it was he saw in her eyes. "After that, I figured they knew where I was. Finally, I got a letter from Ma telling me of... telling me about Zach. She asked me to come home. She said the old man was sick and she needed my help. She didn't tell me about you."
She pulled at a loose thread on the quilt. "I suppose she thought the mention of my name wouldn't affect your decision one way or another." Jesse shot a look at her, but before he could reply, she added, "It must have been quite a sacrifice for you to return."
"I'm here," he said, his voice bitter.
Andi's eyes slid shut. "You should have stayed out there in your mountains, Jesse. You shouldn't have come home."
For a long moment, Jesse stared at the shuttered expression on her face, stung by her barb but unsure why. It didn't matter what she thought, or what anyone thought, for that matter. He'd come back for his mother's sake and he'd stay until she didn't need him anymore. Then, he'd damn well return to his mountains, where none of this could ever touch him again.
Glancing around the small wallpapered room, memories of the times he and Zach had shared came back to him. Gone were the squirrel's tails, kites, and turtle shells they'd collected. Gone, also, were the two narrow beds, side-by-side where he and Zach had plotted their futures by moonlight. In their place, a full-sized bed built for a man and wife, dressed with colorful handmade quilts and crisp white sheets.
Zach and Andi. Andi and Zach.
Jesse had thought of Andi Carson often in the years he'd been gone, with her rich, mahogany hair and violet eyes, but never in his mind's eye had he pictured her a full-grown woman with a husband or a child.
In the years they'd been together, she'd been there to patch his bruised ego after a bout with his father's temper, there when he thought he'd go crazy if he had to slice his blistered hands on one more corn shuck, there to lie with and enjoy the clouds on a windy day or listen to his dreams of going somewhere, anywhere else. So many times, he'd lost track of them.
When he'd left, she begged him not to go. But he'd been too angry with his old man to hear her and too determined to escape to consider taking her with him to a country so inhospitable to women.
He'd told her she'd get over him, even forget him in time. He'd told himself the same. And apparently, she had succeeded where he'd failed.
Zach and Andi. Andi and Zach.
He turned back to her. "Where are my parents? I can't believe they would leave you alone like this."
Her eyes were tortured as they first avoided, then met his. "Your Pa... Jesse, he passed on this spring—" She slammed her eyes shut as another wave of pain hit, and whatever else she'd been about to say was lost.
Jesse sank back on the chair. His father dead? Thomas Winslow the Great, dead? A strange numbness crept over him. His mother had written that his father was ill. But frankly, Jesse hadn't thought anything could kill the old bastard. He'd been too tough, too damned ornery to die and leave his blasted land.
He should feel something, he told himself. Anything. But what welled up in him was an old emptiness that not even the news of Thomas Winslow's demise could fill. And what of his mother? How had she handled her husband's death? Was that why she wasn't here? Had she gone to her sister Elda's, in Council Bluffs, leaving Andi all alone? It didn't make sense.
He did not notice when Andi's contraction peaked and ended. He didn't look at her at all until he felt her warm hand clutching his.
"Oh, Jesse," she whispered urgently, "it's happening faster now. There... there isn't much time. I'll need... some things I didn't have time to gather."
Insensibly, he tore his thoughts from his family. "Just tell me what to get."
She rattled off a list of things she'd need—boiled water, sterilized scissors, thread, towels, thick flannel sheets—and where to find them.
He was halfway up the stairs, arms full, when the moan began. "Jess-eee!"
He took the stairs two steps at a time, sloshing water all over the steps. When he got to her a look of panic was etched across her face, but the sight of him seemed to calm her. "I'm right here, Andi. Just take it easy." He set the bucket down and dumped his load onto the foot of the bed.
"I thought—I was afraid you'd..." She panted as the contraction released her. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm not leaving, all right?"
She nodded. In her eyes, he could see panic edging out reason. She grabbed his hand again and pulled him to her. "Jesse—"
He crouched down lower beside her face, fear creeping up the back of his neck. "What is it?"
Her lips were nearly touching his cheek. He felt her breath, warm and sweet against him. "If... if I die—"
"What?" He straightened with a horrified look.
"If I do—"
"You're not going to. I won't let that happen," he promised. "Look, I know you're scared—"
"Women die giving birth. It happens. Yes, I am scared. It feels like I'm dying." Her sweat-slick hand trembled as it clutched his.
"No, what you're doin' is living, Andi Mae," he said. "And you're letting me be part of it. Now, we're going to get through it together. You need to hang onto me, then just hang on. That baby knows better than the both of us how to be born. All we have to do is stay cal
m." He flashed what he hoped was his most confident smile. "Trust me, okay?"
Trust him? He'd said that to her once before when he'd promised they'd always be together. Then, that she'd forget him when he was gone. But she never had. She'd watched him ride out of her life and felt a part of her go with him. Trust him? She didn't want to trust him, but she had no choice. She had to trust him for now. Nodding wordlessly, she closed her eyes and sank back, exhausted, into the pillow. If she could just rest, only for a moment or two...
Jesse's confident smile faded when she closed her eyes. He slipped off his beaded jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his chambray shirt. He damned well better believe all those things he was saying or she never would. But in truth, he was as scared as she was. He had no doubts he could handle a normal birth. He'd seen enough cows and horses born to know he could help her deliver a child. But if something went wrong...
His gaze slid to Andi's swollen belly. Zach's baby waited there to be born. The child was his blood too, he realized with a jolt. He felt his throat burn with emotion. Zach should have been here holding her hand, catching his son or daughter as she entered the world, Jesse thought. Not him.
With a sigh, he yanked from his pocket a soft square of deerskin that covered his watch. He rolled the leather tightly and tied a piece of thread around each end to hold it together.
When her eyes opened, he handed it to her.
"Wh-what is it?" she asked, fingering the soft hide.
"I've used one since a time or two myself. Bite on it."
"Oh." She looked up at him, but he busied himself setting out the scissors and knife into a neat row on the stand beside the bed. "Jesse?"
"Hmmm?"
"Thank you for... everything. For the... leather. For holding my hand... coming when you did."
"That was just dumb luck."
"I don't... believe... in luck." She settled back and took a deep breath. Jesse was still considering her comment when her face contorted and her midsection lifted off the bed. "Oh—oh! J-Jesse, it's s-starting again. Oh! I don't th-think I can—" She bit down on the leather.
He grabbed her hand and she nearly took his thumb off. Her knees went up under the sheets and her back arched off the bed. She held her breath and he found himself doing the same.
"Oh, m-my Gaw-wd!"
Fear drove through him at the shrill terror in her voice. "I'm right here, darlin'. I'm right here." This contraction seemed longer and aged him with each passing second. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of one sleeve. How she must hurt! It was damn good men didn't have to bear children, he thought watching her, because after seeing this, he'd sure as hell never go through it. As it was, he was wringing wet with sweat. He blinked and ran a sleeve over his forehead.
Over the next few minutes, Jesse felt about as useful to her as a scythe to a grasshopper, but he held her hand and gently massaged her back until she swatted his hand away, unable to bear even the gentlest of touches.
In the moments between pains, she told him what Isabelle had told her about what to do after the baby came; how to clear the mouth, tie off the cord, make the baby breathe. Each instruction, though meant to fill Jesse with confidence, had the opposite effect. There was so much to remember and all of it crucial. He was plain scared, but he'd be damned if he'd let her see that.
The pains came almost back to back with barely time between for her to catch her breath. Finally, the pains took on a new dimension.
She moaned again, reaching back for the thin iron bars of the bedstead. "I have to push."
He sent up a prayer under his breath.
"It's coming, Jesse. I can feel it."
His pulse thudded in his ears. Calm. Stay calm. "Andi? I'm just gonna... pull the sheet back now. Okay?"
Andi didn't hear him, or if she did she didn't care. Her face was red and she was pushing for all she was worth. Jesse slid the sheet away from her drawn up legs. Her muslin nightrail was hitched over her knees, but covered the rest of her. "Okay... Andi, I need to see what's happening."
"Oh! Oh!" she panted. "God, I f-feel it. It's t-time. Jess-eee!"
Shoving the nightgown away from her, his pulse grew rapid at the sight of a tiny black-haired head crowning at the vortex of her legs. Andi's long limbs were covered in a sheen of sweat and every muscle in her body strained to the task at hand.
"I see the head, Andi! It's right there!"
She gripped the iron bedstead until he thought she'd bend the metal.
"That's it, Andi. Push. Push again!"
With a growling cry, she did. Jesse could hardly believe it as a tiny head emerged face down. Gently, he took the baby's head in his hands as it naturally rotated sideways. A perfect little face appeared, scrunched up and red. Awe filled Jesse, made his hands shake. As she'd told him to do, Jesse stuck a fingertip in the infant's mouth and cleared away any mucus. To his surprise, the little mouth clamped down momentarily on his finger.
Andi dropped back, gasping for breath. She looked too tired to go on. "Don't stop now, Andi, you've almost got it. That's it. That a girl. Here come the shoulders. One more push..."
From somewhere, she found the strength to do as he asked. Jesse's fingers slid against the child's wet head as first one, then the other shoulder appeared. Andi gave one last push and the baby came out in a rush into Jesse's waiting hands.
Chapter 2
Jesse laughed out loud as the weight of the warm, slippery child filled his hands. The miracle of it tightened his throat and made his eyes burn. He'd never held anything so new and perfect in his life. His gaze traveled down the small length of the baby's body to the twisted cord that still linked it with Andi's body. Its tiny face was reddish purple and scrunched into an annoyed frown. Jesse cradled him upside down in both hands, silently willing the baby to take its first breath.
With a little encouragement from Jesse's gentle hand, the child opened his mouth and made a mewling sound he could only compare with a newborn kitten. Mwa-ahh, Mwa-ahh! The sound brought a wave of relief crashing over Jesse. Lifting the squalling infant up in his two hands, Jesse couldn't help the idiotic grin plastered on his face.
"Is it—?" Andi asked in a rasping whisper.
"It's a boy, Andi. A boy!"
Andrea fell back on the pillow, with a laugh of exhilaration. "A boy. Is he... is he all right?"
"Look at him, Andi." Jesse held him higher. "He's a mess, but he's perfect. Ten fingers. Ten toes. And... uh, everything else that's important seems to be here, too."
Andrea burst into tears, releasing the emotions that had teetered on the brink for the last few hours—tears of relief, joy, and exhaustion. Her baby boy. Her healthy, whole son. He looked so small in Jesse's hands.
"And will you look at this hair—" Jesse ran his hand over the cap of silky hair on the baby's head. "He's got your hair. No doubt about it. Shiny as gold in moonlight."
At his touch, the baby stopped wailing. Jesse glanced down to find the baby staring up at him with wide blue eyes. The boy blinked owlishly and flailed his outstretched hands with small, jerky movements, then calmed as Jesse cradled him closer. The look on the baby's face was one few people had ever given Jesse in his life: a look of absolute trust. The realization made his heart thud against the wall of his chest. This must be what a father feels for his child when he sees it for the first time, Jesse thought. Had his father felt this way when he first held him? Had his father ever felt the emotions coursing through Jesse at this very moment?
None of that mattered. It didn't even matter that he would never be a father to this child. He only knew no matter how far apart they grew, how many miles came to separate them, he would never forget the magic of this moment, or the look in this child's eyes for as long as he lived.
Andi reached for her son. Shaken, Jesse obliged, laying the baby gently across her chest. Heartbeat to heartbeat they lay. She curled her arms around him, hardly able to believe he was hers. Running her hands over the small body, she checked that everything Jesse ha
d told her was true. Her eyes burned with happy tears. Never in her life had she felt more alive than she did at this moment. No one could have prepared her for the exhilaration of holding the tiny life she'd helped to create in her arms... or for the profound love she would feel that no words could possibly describe.
Through a haze of tears, she looked up as Jesse draped a soft flannel sheet around the naked child. He was still grinning from ear to ear, though a suspicious moisture lit his eyes as well.
"Hey, you're supposed to be happy," he told her with a laugh.
"I am. Oh, I am," she said, gazing raptly at her son. "Thank you, Jesse. Thank you."
Jesse didn't reply. He was thinking he ought to be thanking her, but he didn't say so. In fact he didn't trust himself to talk at all so he grabbed the spool of thread and tied off the cord.
In the moment Andi's eyes had met his, he knew his life had been unalterably changed by what had happened here today. A bond had formed between them, as tough and tenacious as the cord he was about to cut.
He reached for the scissors, but before he could cut the cord, the bedroom door burst open with a thud.
He whirled to find a woman with hips wide as an axe handle standing agape in the doorway. It took a moment, but Jesse remembered this woman too—Isabelle Rafferty, his mother's friend and neighbor. Six years had deepened the squint lines around her eyes and bracketing her mouth, but only added to what Jesse had always considered a commanding face. Her faded blond hair was graying, and escaped the wind-blown braids wrapped double around her head. Her startled expression slid from Andi to Jesse.
"Who in tarnation are—?" Her gaze fell on the child. "Well, slap the dog and spit in the fire!" she cried, meeting Andi's exhausted, but triumphant grin. "You went an' had that youngun' without me." Two deep dimples appeared in her cheeks. Ignoring Jesse completely, she strode toward the bed. Her heavy brown work boots clunked against the pine planking.
"I knew it," Isabelle said. "I just had an inklin' today was the day. But what with the rain and all... the wagon got stuck in the mud and the mule wouldn't move... I'm sorry, darlin'." She stooped to look at the baby. "Glory be, will ya look at that? If that ain't the prettiest child I ever did see. A boy?"
Renegade's Kiss Page 2
