Love Inspired Historical February 2016 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  “Nah.” He grinned, spun on his heel and returned to Clara’s side.

  The sweet gesture made her heart sing.

  Unbidden, a memory of Lee resurfaced. They’d been on one of their many picnics. A fly had landed on her pie and, revolted, she’d pushed it away. Lee continued to eat his portion without offering her a single bite, then proceeded to eat hers, commenting on her weak constitution. It won’t kill you, he’d said.

  Grant was the type of man who’d share his pie. He was the type of man who’d give her his coat without thought to his own discomfort. He was the type of man who’d treat her with respect and not do anything to tarnish her reputation.

  In Grant’s embrace, Jessica had felt utterly safe. She’d known, deep in her soul, that he would never press her to do anything inappropriate. There was a line he wouldn’t cross. Grant Parker was a gentleman who lived by a code of honor.

  Lee hadn’t been as careful. Around him, she’d had to keep up her guard, not entirely certain that her virtue was his top priority. And while she’d enjoyed his displays of affection, they hadn’t moved her to an emotional place like Grant’s.

  Touching her cool fingers to her lips, she recalled Grant’s tenderness, the slight tremor in his hands as he’d cupped her face. And shocked herself by wishing his was the only kiss she’d ever experienced.

  This isn’t love, she reassured herself. It’s friendship and affection. Yes, looking at him is like looking at a spectacular autumn sunset. Being near him brings the same satisfaction as a perfectly crafted confection. And despite all the unknowns, I’d trust him with my life. But that’s not love, necessarily.

  She’d loved Lee, and her feelings for him were different than what she was experiencing now.

  “I have to talk to Jane,” she whispered. She’d know what Jessica’s feelings meant.

  “Did you say something?” Grant tipped the brim of his hat up.

  “Nothing important.” Cheeks burning, she was grateful he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  Her peace of mind would have to wait. Jane had a baby to bring into this world. A brand-new life to nurture and care for.

  Hunkering into his jacket, Jessica prayed for Jane, Tom and the baby. She prayed for Grant, as well. God, for so long, I’ve demanded answers from You. I needed to know why You allowed certain things to happen. But I made a choice to place my future in Lee’s hands without seeking Your will first. Because he attended Sunday services faithfully, I assumed he followed Christ’s teachings in his daily life. I ignored my family’s warnings. I didn’t seek Your guidance, stubbornly pursuing my wants and desires. And yet, in all my stubbornness, You protected me. You kept me safe. I don’t need answers anymore. But Grant does. He won’t ever experience true peace until he finds out who and what he used to be. He can’t move forward without the truth. Please help him.

  Clara yawned widely. Grant noticed and tilted his head back to study the sky. “We’re going to have to continue our treasure hunt another time.”

  Her lower lip protruded. “But I haven’t found any gold.”

  He locked gazes with Jessica. “This stream isn’t going anywhere, and your aunt and I have dishes to wash. Not only that, but I bet Sadie is impatient to be milked.” Cocking his head, he studied Clara. “Are you a good drawer?”

  She nodded.

  “Why don’t you draw a picture for your ma and pa while we tend chores?”

  Rolling a pebble between her first finger and thumb, she considered his suggestion. “I could draw a picture of the woods and the stream.”

  “That’s a fine idea.”

  With that settled, they gathered their things and began the trek home. Jessica tried to return his jacket, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He hurried to do the milking while she took Clara inside and located paper and pencils for her. She’d gotten the leftovers into the icebox and was grating soap into the water basin when Grant brought in the milk and, after complimenting Clara’s progress, joined Jessica at the counter to dry and put up the dishes.

  At half past nine, it was clear her niece was ready for bed. Jessica located an old chemise for her to wear. Washing away the grime from the child’s face and gingerly combing the tangles from her curls, she put her in Jane’s bed.

  “Are you going to read me a story?” Her lids drooped as another yawn overtook her.

  Jessica tucked the blankets around her small form and sat on the edge of the bed. “Not tonight. You’re tuckered out, as am I.”

  Clara’s gaze shifted beyond Jessica’s shoulder. “Do you like my picture?”

  Angling slightly, Jessica saw Grant propped against the door frame. Having him here tonight had been a blessing. He’d kept them both too busy to dwell on what was happening just across town.

  “I do,” he said. “I’m sure your ma will like it.”

  “Can we pray for the baby?” she asked Jessica.

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  Clara held out a hand to Grant. “Are you going to pray, too?”

  Entering the room, he stopped directly behind Jessica. Clara’s pudgy hand looked tiny in his large, tanned one. His heat radiated outward, warming her back like the gentle sweep of sunlight on a brisk day.

  “You and Auntie have to hold hands, too.”

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest. Prickles of awareness fanned across her exposed nape.

  “I don’t think that’s possible from where I’m standing.”

  Clara considered this. “You can put your hand on her shoulder.” She patted her own to show him. “That’s what my pa does to Mama.”

  He was quiet a minute. Then Jessica felt his fingers settle on the curve between her neck and shoulder. She held her breath. His touch was firm and familiar. Beneath her ponytail, his thumb scraped over the top of her spine. Fireworks went off in her midsection, a not unpleasant feeling.

  As they took turns asking God to protect and watch over their loved ones, Jessica experienced a strange longing. So this is what it feels like to have a family of one’s own. Working together toward a mutual goal, supporting each other, loving each other.

  What you feel for Grant isn’t love, remember?

  Afterward, Grant led the way to the living room. Too aware of him in the quiet house, she kept the sofa between them. “Please give my aunt my regards.”

  Shooting her a knowing look, he lifted his hat from its peg. “I’m not leaving, Jess.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t feel right leaving you. I will be sleeping in the hayloft, though. Do you have old bedding you can spare?”

  She waved a hand over the furniture. “If you’re determined to stay, you’re welcome to the sofa. It’s not like we’re alone here.”

  “I don’t want to give anyone an opportunity to cast doubt on your reputation.”

  His response was so different than what Lee’s would’ve been. He would’ve jumped at the chance. Not only had Lee sought his own comfort, he would’ve grasped the excuse to be close to her without other adults around.

  “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “For keeping us company tonight.” For being you.

  “I’d do just about anything for you, Jessica.”

  Unable to endure the emotions shimmering in his blue eyes, she looked away. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to care this much.

  He wasn’t sticking around. She was afraid to consider how much it would hurt when he left.

  *

  Jessica balanced the miniature bundle along her forearm. “She’s perfect in every way.” Testing the downy silkiness of her new niece’s thin cap of dark hair, she smiled. “I’m smitten.”

  From his spot on the sofa, Tom placed a finger on the storybook’s page to hold his place. “We would never have guessed. You’ve only visited every day this week.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  Tom and Jane shared an amused glance. Clara tapped his chin and asked for him to continue the story. Seated in the rocking chair
Tom had surprised her with a day or so ago, Jane appeared content to relax and watch her family. She’d had a normal delivery and was basking in the happiness of motherhood. Family and friends had inundated the couple with meals, baked goods and homemade gifts for the baby.

  “You’ve been here more often than Ma,” Jane remarked good-naturedly.

  Jessica had been walking the baby around the cabin. She stopped beside Jane’s chair. Joy’s lids fluttered. Her tiny body squirmed. Gently swaying, Jessica patted her back through the blankets, and she settled into sleep once more.

  “Fine. I won’t come tomorrow.” She studied the dainty mouth, the fine outline of eyebrows. “Maybe.”

  Jane’s gaze turned serious. Pitching her voice low, she said, “Is there another reason you’re wanting to get out of the house?”

  Her stomach dipped. “No.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes.

  “You forget I know the signs. Your voice does this funny dip when you’re not being truthful.” She waggled her finger. “Why hasn’t Grant come to visit? I wanted to thank him for helping with Clara.”

  “He’s been working during the day. Not sure what he does with his evenings.”

  “She’s talked almost nonstop about their treasure hunt. I think she fancies him. I think she’s not the only one.”

  “Maybe more than fancy,” she confessed on a whim.

  Worry clouded Jane’s eyes. Folding her arms across her chest, she audibly exhaled. “Do you trust him?”

  She stopped swaying at the unexpected question. “Yes.”

  “And you believe him to be worthy of your feelings?”

  “I do.”

  “Does he have feelings for you?”

  “If he does, he hasn’t voiced them.”

  One kiss didn’t amount to love. But he liked her. She knew he did. Whether or not it was more, she couldn’t be certain.

  A frown hovered about Jane’s mouth. “Then I pray nothing from his past causes you pain or regret.”

  Bending slightly, Jessica placed Joy in her mother’s arms. Suddenly cold, she chafed her arms in an effort to warm herself. The meager flames in the fireplace did little to chase away her chill. Every time she recalled their kiss, every time she allowed herself to wonder what a lifetime with Grant might be like, she pictured a faceless woman somewhere in their vast country who’d be crushed by his connection with her. The thought of Grant belonging to someone else filled Jessica with a sick sort of dread. It made her want to curl up in a lonely meadow somewhere and cry until there were no more tears left.

  Pressing her hand to her forehead, she shut her eyes tight.

  I love him.

  “Do you have a headache?” Jane’s soft query pierced her misery.

  “No. I’m, uh, just tired.”

  “Your voice is doing that dipping thing again.”

  Straightening her shoulders, she bussed her twin’s cheek and strode for the coat stand. She wrapped her shawl about her shoulders and wished for Grant’s jacket suffused with his heat and scent.

  “It’s getting late. I’m going to head home and work on the baby blanket I didn’t get to finish, since Joy decided to make an early appearance.”

  “Good night, Jess.” Tom studied her thoughtfully. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Maybe.”

  She bid Clara good-night before slipping out the door into the chilly October evening. Far above, a fingernail moon floated in the blackness. Pinpricks of light winked like faraway candles.

  Jane had been right. Doting on Joy hadn’t been her only reason for spending so much time away. She hadn’t seen Grant in four days, and she found she couldn’t handle the sad emptiness cloaking the cabin. Funny, in the beginning, she couldn’t have imagined feeling this way. She’d been desperate to be rid of him then.

  In spite of all her hard-won lessons, contrary to her best intentions, she’d lost her heart to a stranger. The best and worst man she could’ve chosen. Grant Parker wasn’t hers to love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sitting in another borrowed room, on another bed that wasn’t his own, Grant ran his fingers over the Bible’s thin parchment. What was the illegible first name? Gregory? George? Gustave? Nothing sounded right. He’d gotten used to being called Grant.

  Of course, this might not even be his. It could belong to the real Parker. The US marshal he couldn’t stop thinking about. He’d recalled something from his childhood, a memory of himself playing with another boy, one with blond hair like his own. They’d been climbing trees. Laughing. Lobbing acorns at squirrels. Grant wondered if this boy was the same man in his other memory. The man wearing the silver star badge.

  He’d been tempted to ride over to Jessica’s right away and share this new revelation with her. He’d resisted. As much as he ached to see her, severing the unexpected bond between them was the wisest course of action. He was trouble. A hidden bomb that could explode at any time, scattering destruction in his wake.

  Closing the heavy book, he left it on the bedside stand and crossed to the window. Situated on the upper level, this room had an unobstructed view of the O’Malleys’ farm and the lane that led to town. A sizable garden stretched in long, even rows in the clearing. Bright orange pumpkins and assorted squash were nestled in the dirt. To his right, a massive barn was flanked by toolsheds and other outbuildings. One of those buildings housed Josh’s furniture workshop. The pieces he built here were transported into town for display in his store. Josh and his wife, Kate, along with their children, lived behind this main house in a home of their own.

  His gaze searched the tree line where the forest took over, snagging on the one-story cabin tucked beneath the branches of an ancient oak. Caleb’s cabin. He lived there with his wife, Rebecca, and their young sons.

  Surrounded by all these couples and their offspring, he couldn’t help but think of Jessica. Alone. Unwed. Did she feel left out? Awkward about her single state? He hadn’t heard anyone tease her about it, and he hoped he never did.

  He’d stayed away from Jane and Tom’s, even though he’d love to see the new baby girl. He was curious what she looked like. If she favored Jane, she also favored Jessica. And he’d get to see what a daughter of hers might look like.

  Whenever Mary had spoken of baby Joy, Grant’s mind had wandered down dangerous paths…like what a child of his and Jessica’s might look like. Green eyes or blue? Blond hair or red? Strawberry blond? Creamy skin with freckles or tanned?

  Would a little girl turn out to be feisty and independent like her mother?

  His fist closed around the filmy white-and-blue curtain, crumpling the starched fabric.

  Stop torturing yourself, Parker. Nothing good will come of such thoughts.

  A knock reverberated on the open door. He turned to see Nathan in the hall. He and his wife, Sophie, had arrived shortly after lunch. Will had told Grant that he missed spending nights at Alice and Jessica’s. Grant didn’t mention he missed it, too.

  “We’re setting up for the husking bee. Feel up to joining us?”

  “Explain to me what a husking bee is again?”

  Nathan’s silver gaze twinkled with mirth. “Neighbors and friends come together to shuck the mounds and mounds of corn. In addition to the work, there are games and food.”

  “Not sure if I’ve ever attended one, but it sounds interesting.”

  He trailed the other man to the stairs, thankful his wounds had healed and he wasn’t relegated to spending his days in the sickbed. He’d go mad if that was the case.

  The females were gathered in the kitchen. Delightful aromas filled every nook and cranny of the homey cabin. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Alice stepped through the main door, an unwieldy crate in her arms.

  Nathan relieved her of her burden and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll be in the barn,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Be there in a minute,” Grant said before being wrapped in a motherly hug.

 
Alice pulled away, her gaze searching. “How are you? I’ve missed having you underfoot.”

  “Everyone has made me feel welcome.” Even Caleb. A surprising development.

  When she caught him looking behind her, she said, “Jessica won’t be here until later. She’s working on her orders for the mercantile.”

  Nodding, he massaged his stiff neck muscles. “How does it feel to have another grandbaby?”

  “Too wonderful to describe. You should go and see her.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Her brow creased. “Have you had any news from Shane?”

  “None, I’m afraid.”

  The sheriff had come to see him at the livery yesterday. Somehow, he and the bank owner had managed to keep the existence of stolen jewels a secret. Shane had sent letters to authorities as far away as New York. No one could tell him anything about missing gems. Nor was anyone searching for a man of Grant’s description. Together they’d penned a letter to the US Marshals’ headquarters and were awaiting a response. Grant suspected the competent sheriff was growing frustrated with the lack of answers. This whole mystery identity case had him baffled.

  Grant couldn’t fully relax. He worked and lived with one eye on the horizon, constantly on alert, half expecting the authorities to swoop in and cuff him for some unknown crime. It was a difficult way to live. Peace wasn’t achievable.

  Alice patted his cheek. “It may not seem like it, but God’s working behind the scenes on your behalf. He brought you here for a reason. You just don’t know what it is yet.”

  What reason? To learn some elusive lesson? To pay for a past sin?

  To realize what it was to want something with every fiber of his being, only to be denied?

  “He’s not a cruel father,” he murmured, somehow convinced of that truth.

  “No, He’s not.”

  A passage from the New Testament scrolled through his mind. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

  “So my only choice is to trust Him and His plan.”