She shook her head in confusion. "What do you mean, you don't have to?"
He clammed up and turned away from her as he always did when he realized he'd said more than he'd meant to. "Jesse?"
"Never mind," he told her. "He'll never do anything but wipe his boots on me. And on her, too."
She knew he was talking about his mother. Jesse was protective of her as only a son could be. "He's your father," she pleaded. "He doesn't hate you, Jesse. He just—"
"Don't defend him, dammit!" Jesse shoved to his feet. "Not you, too." Beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt she could see the raised welts from Tom Winslow's strap.
Andrea got up slowly, joining him in the long drying grass that twisted around their knees. "I'm not," she said resting a comfortable hand on his arm. "Just say you won't go."
He took her shoulders in his hands. "I can't do that, Andi. I hate this place. I hate the goddamn corn, and the wheat... just looking at the steel blades on the John Deere makes the hair rise on the back of my neck. I can't stay. If I do it'll be the death of me or him. You understand?"
She did, only too well. She'd seen the trouble coming for months, but had been helpless to stop it just as she was helpless now to stop him from going. "Then take me with you," she blurted.
He stared at her as if she'd just asked him to plow naked in the sun. "What?"
She swallowed hard. "I... I love you, Jesse."
"Aw, Andi—" His eyes rolled shut.
"I do."
"You're just sixteen—"
"And you're nineteen. So what? Folks marry even younger than that."
"Marry?" he gasped. Suddenly, he was looking at her the same way he looked at that old plow.
"Andi, you're young. You'll find somebody else. Someone better than me."
She grabbed his arm before he could pull away. "How would you know what I feel?"
"Let's part friends, all right?"
"Friends?" she repeated hollowly. "Friends? We talked about marriage. You yourself brought it up."
"That was... a mistake."
His cornflower-blue eyes had burned into her with an intensity that always made her knees go weak. "I'm sorry, Andi." His hands had trembled as they held her arms.
In wanton desperation, she pressed her young breasts against the hardness of his chest. "It didn't feel like a mistake yesterday when you kissed me."
"Andi—" The word sounded strangled.
"In fact, I can still feel that kiss"—she touched her lips with her fingertips—"right here. Can't you, Jesse?" And before he shoved her away as if her touch had burned him, she knew he remembered that kiss, too.
"Damn!" he cried, looking at her as if she were poison ivy. "Don't Andi Mae. I have to go. You have to understand—"
"I don't—"
"As soon as I'm gone, you'll forget about me. You'll see." He rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "I'm going west, as far west as I can get. I'm going to find out who the hell I really am, and I'm not taking a half-grown girl with me who's head is full of romantic—"
Stung, she bit back her tears and watched him get on his horse. "Is that what you think?" she cried. "Is that all I am to you? Just some half-grown pest of a girl? Well, someday I'll be fully grown and you'll be sorry you left me behind, Jesse Winslow. When you finally find yourself all alone in that wild country full of rocks wishing you had someone to talk to, you'll be sorry! And I won't think of you at all. You hear me, Jesse? I won't think of you at all!"
She turned then and ran, but through the pounding in her ears she thought she heard him call her name. It hadn't mattered. She'd lost him and nothing would ever be the same....
Now, Andi curled her hands around the covers and drew them tighter to her face, her gaze pinned on Jesse's back. Of course she'd lied about never thinking of him again. It was, in fact, years until her heart stopped aching for him or her lips ceased to tingle from that remembered kiss.
The last rays of sun were slanting through her bedroom window, and the prisms she had strung there caught that light. Rainbows danced across the wall and ceiling in the rose hues of evening and painted color on Jesse's long hair. She wondered absently what he would look like with his shaggy mane trimmed short. What had he been through since he left?
She could see the answer. He'd turned wild, she thought, like an animal let loose after years of captivity. And certainly he had no desire to find himself behind bars again.
Jesse swiveled a look at her when she rustled the sheets. "You're awake."
She smiled sleepily. "Funny, I don't even remember falling asleep."
"You've been out most of the afternoon," he said. "So has junior here. How do you feel?"
"Like a fried egg that's been run over by a wagon wheel," she replied and he grinned. "I can only imagine what I look like." Andi's hand went self-consciously to the tangle of hair haloing her head. His slow gaze roamed over her as she pushed the mop away from her face.
"You look beautiful, Andi. Motherhood suits you."
A flush crept up her cheeks at the sincerity in his voice. "You're too kind, but you're a shameless liar. Right now, I'd kill for a hot bath and a shampoo." She settled her head back on the pillow with a tired sigh.
He stretched, raising his arms over his head. "That can be arranged."
"You didn't have to sit here with me, you know."
"I didn't mind," he said, scratching his beard. "I needed some time to think."
"Did... Isabelle tell you about...?"
"Ma?" Jesse got to his feet and walked over to the washstand so his back was to her, but not before she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. "Yeah, she told me. Seems I was a few days late and a few dollars short."
"I'm so sorry, Jesse."
He nodded. "It must have been hard on you, finding my mother like you did."
Andrea stared at his back. "I loved Martha very much. She was always like the mother I never had, even when Zach and I were just friends."
Jesse poured water into a glass from the china pitcher and handed it to her then, crossed the room and pushed aside the lace curtain to stare blindly out the window. "How long were you and Zach married?"
"Almost two years before he went off to war."
"Were you... happy?"
Zach's face rose up in her memory: his brown, smiling eyes... the way he used to laugh at her silly jokes and hold her at night when the dark made her afraid.
Had she been happy?
When she didn't answer right away, Jesse glanced back at her. "Were you?"
She met his gaze directly. "Yes, we were. What kind of a question is that?"
He shrugged. "You're right. It's none of my business."
"No, it's not. It hasn't been for a long time," she replied. He'd given up the right to ask about her happiness when he'd walked out of her life. Heart pounding, she stared at the darkening sky. The evening crickets filled the silence that stretched interminably between them.
"I left because I had to, Andi. You know that. You knew it then."
"I suppose I did," she lied. "It really doesn't matter anymore."
He massaged the palm of his right hand with his left thumb, searching for a safe topic. "Tell me, how did Zach wind up fighting in the war? Did he volunteer?"
"Conscription," she said flatly. "They took him last fall. He didn't have the three hundred dollars to hire a substitute like some men around here did. And because he wasn't technically the only son, he had no recourse." At Jesse's pained expression, she added, "Besides, I think... he wanted to fight. He felt as if he wasn't really doing his part here behind a plow. Although I doubt he would have left the farm if he hadn't been drafted."
Jesse snorted. "The Federals only got him with the old man kicking and screaming, I'd wager."
She smiled sadly. "Something like that. But you have to remember, Zach felt differently about this place than you did."
"He was a bigger man than me."
"No," she said. "Just different."
He shrugged as if none
of it mattered. "Either way, I think you should know... with my folks gone, I've decided the best thing is to sell Willow Banks and head back to Montana. Best for you and for me."
Her pulse stalled in her chest. "You what?" Andrea pushed herself up on one elbow, and stared at him, incredulous.
"I said—"
"I heard you. I... I just don't believe it. Sell this place? Your parents' farm? Jesse, what are you thinking?"
"I've made up my mind," he said, slumping in the chair by the window again. The wooden legs scraped against the floor with a sound she could only compare to fingernails on a slate. Lose Willow Banks? The only real home she'd ever had in her life?
"You know how I feel about this place, Andi," he went on as if her feelings on the subject didn't matter at all. "I've never made any secret about it."
"Hardly," she agreed, though her answer was barely audible. She couldn't hear him for the thudding in her ears.
"There's no reason for me to stay now, with Ma and Zach gone. God knows I didn't come back for the old man."
"God knows..."
"Hell," he pressed on, "I might as well slide a noose around my neck and kick the horse as stay chained to a plow the rest of my life."
Shaking herself out of her inertia, Andi turned to him. "My, what a colorful way you have with words, Jesse. But I'm afraid Willow Banks' future is not entirely up to you.Willow Banks is half mine now. And I, for one, have no intention of selling."
Jesse lowered his eyes and studied the floor. Clearly he'd already considered this. His jaw tightened. "I never intended to leave you out in the cold, Andi. I don't want any part of the farm. The money's all yours. I just want to be shed of it. You can use the money from the farm to make a life for yourself, in town, with people around you. I'll—"
Andrea pushed herself up to a sitting position. "No."
"You're not telling me you expect to farm this place by yourself?"
"If I must."
Jesse snorted. "Alone?"
Her eyes flashed violet. "Of course, that's not ideal, but I'm not giving it up. It's my home." She glanced at the baby tucked in the drawer near the bed. "Our home."
He turned his back on her and braced a palm against the window jamb.
"You could stay and help me," she suggested in a small voice.
"Hah! That'll be the—"
"Well, you could!"
The baby, startled at her outburst, began to cry. Without considering the consequences, Andrea was halfway out of bed before she seriously regretted that action. With a sharp intake of breath, she stumbled and clutched the edge of the quilt. The pain shot up the center of her like a dagger and she let out her breath in a small, grunting gasp.
Jesse was beside her in the time it took to blink. His hands clamped around her arms, steadying her, keeping her shaky knees from sending her to the floor.
"Jesus, Andi. What do you think you're doing?"
She hissed out her inheld breath. "I didn't think—"
"I'm sorry." He turned her in his arms, until she was nearly flush against him. Too close. For a long heartbeat, neither of them moved or even breathed. Indignation drew her eyes to his. She found his heated gaze riveted on her chest. The thin cotton fabric of her nightrail might as well have been transparent for all it hid from his view.
That he'd seen pretty much all there was to see of her earlier was no consolation. In fact, the thought generated a blush that traveled from the tips of her toes to her hairline. A prickle of sweat bloomed on the palms of her hands.
"I'm fine," she insisted, trying to sound convincing.
His eyes came slowly back up to her face. "Yeah, sure."
"I—I am."
Heat flowed between them like a current of electricity at every point of contact; from the span of her fingers braced against his ironlike upper arms to the tips of her breasts where they brushed against his chest. For a heartbeat, she thought he was going to try to kiss her.
Across the room, the baby cranked up, testing its lungs. The sound broke the moment and he edged her toward the mattress behind her knees. "Here, get back in bed," he said gruffly. Lowering her to the bed, he lifted her knees under the sheets. "What do you think I'm here for anyway?"
Whatever had just happened between them vanished in the space of a blink. She glared at him. "No one asked you to stay."
He slid a look at her. "As a matter of fact, you did. Twice in the space of a few hours."
She narrowed her eyes. "Oh. Well, maybe I did, but you can just forget what I said. I can manage on my own, now, thank you very much."
He sniffed and walked over to the drawer. "Sure you can."
"Well, I can. I mean... don't think I'm ungrateful for your help today. But if you're in such a rush to leave, then go. Don't let me stop you."
She heard him mutter something under his breath that sounded like "damn stubborn females" as he stooped over the drawer, but he hesitated, unsure how to get a handhold on such a miniature human being. He tried several angles then finally plunged his hands in and lifted the baby awkwardly. She couldn't help the smile that crept to her lips at the sight.
Incredibly, the baby stopped crying the minute Jesse's big hands cradled him. She watched the impact of that fact soften the anger on Jesse's bearded face. His eyes rose to meet hers with an expression close to bewilderment. The baby made soft cooing noises as his little fists opened and shut around thin air near Jesse's chest.
"I think he's hungry," he said, carrying him to her like he might break.
Andrea forgot the anger that had been between them only moments before and reached for the swaddled baby. Jesse settled him damply into her arms. "Oooh," she said. "I think he needs a change."
That's where Jesse drew the line. He held his hands, palms up. "Yeah, well, I won't stoop to changing wet... nappies," he told her with a scowl. "You'll have to handle that." He reached over and tossed her a diaper from the washstand where Isabelle had stacked them. "And I won't wash them either."
"I don't recall asking you to," she replied without looking up.
Jesse frowned. He'd ceased to exist to Andi, who smiled raptly at her son, talking to him with low, insensible words that held no meaning except, Jesse supposed, to addlebrained women and their offspring.
"Well," he said, backing out of the room—he seemed to be making a lot of awkward exits lately—"we'll talk about that other thing... later."
"What other thing is that?" she asked absently, drawing a finger over her son's perfect little nose.
What other thing is—? He ground his teeth. "The farm, Andi. We'll talk about the farm later."
"Oh... uh-huh," she mumbled, but he wasn't sure if she'd even heard him.
Jesse shook his head in frustration. But he couldn't really blame her for being distracted. They made quite a picture there on the brass bed, Andi and her son, bathed in the last rosy rays of daylight, oblivious to everything but each other. An ache balled in the center of his chest and burned all the way up his throat. Zach had achieved something Jesse knew he'd never would. A child, a wife who loved him. An ache fisted in his chest for the brother who hadn't even lived to see it.
"Hey—" Jesse said, bringing Andi's head up. Her smile faded. "What are you going to call him?"
She rubbed a finger over the silky cap of hair. "Zachary," she answered, returning her attention to the boy. "Zachary Evan Winslow, Jr."
"Oh." Jesse sighed, the memory of his brother's face leaping to his mind. A pang of regret shot through him. He could almost imagine the smile Zach would have smiled for his son. "Zach would've liked that."
Andi glanced up at him, sending him a brief, tight smile then fixed her gaze once more on little Zachary.
He was a bastard for upsetting her, considering everything she'd just been through today. He hadn't meant to raise the issue of the farm, at least until tomorrow.
With a vow to let it rest until then, he left the pair cooing to each other on the bed while he made his way down the familiar stairway, his pal
ms still tingling from the memory of Andi's child in his hands.
Andrea watched him go and dragged in a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart, thinking of the touch they'd shared only moments ago. She'd fight him every inch of the way if his intention was to remove her and her son from Willow Banks. He could go back to his damn Rocky Mountains and lose himself there for all she cared.
She smoothed a hand over her son's silky head, the gesture calming her more than anything else could. After a lifetime in shabby boarding houses and living one day to the next, never knowing where she'd be tomorrow, she was planted here, just like that corn Jesse hated so much.
She'd make a go of the farm, or die trying. She owed it to Zach Jr. and more than that, to the man who'd never raise his son on the Willow Banks land he'd loved.
* * *
The rope-ties beneath the old double bed in his parent's room squeaked with Jesse's weight as he flung himself off the horsehair-filled mattress and stumbled naked to the window in the moonlight. The lace curtains billowed in the damp night air. The rain had stopped, but the smell of it clung to the land. Jesse caught the filmy material in one hand and stared out into the darkness, trying to catch his breath.
A dream had awakened him and though he'd already forgotten the particulars, the feelings it invoked stayed with him still. He'd felt trapped, hemmed in by something, his feet mired in thick mud that held him relentlessly. Jesse checked the impulse to look at his fingernails to see if the mud he'd clawed in his dream was actually there.
Figuring out what that dream meant didn't take genius. His gaze went to the endless rows of corn in the distant fields, their wide leaves, glinting silver in the moonlight.
The loathing went deeper than simple dislike, deeper even than a rational hatred. What he felt for the place was irrational perhaps, but in all the years he'd been gone, he'd never tried to make sense out of it. It was too painful to look at, or remember. Even now, he thought, pushing away from the window jamb, it was as if there was some invisible wall keeping him from gaining any kind of perspective on it.
Mahkwi, who lay curled at the foot of the bed, lifted her head in vague interest, then settled back with her nose nestled between her paws.
Renegade's Kiss Page 4
