[2016] A Widow's Love

by Christian Michael

  The shopkeeper backed away nodding and resumed his duties as Robert completed the rest of the shopping. The guy was new to town, having taken over for the previous owner, and Robert hadn’t had a chance to really get to know him. Looked like he wasn’t missing much.

  Robert chided himself for his thoughts. Since when had he become so cynical of people?

  Mary.

  He let out a breath. Everything began—and ended—with Mary. His sense of humor was gone. His appreciation for life was missing. The only bright spot in his day was Jack.

  He found he was smiling, though it was small, just thinking about his little boy so full of energy and life. Much to Robert’s amazement Alice had managed to protect him during her fall. He’d seen her earnest desire to keep the boy safe and it had touched his heart.

  He shook his head and settled the tab at the front, making a point to introduce himself to the new shopkeeper. He’d have to remember Will was just like everyone else; he had his good days and his bad.

  Robert strode out into the bright sunlight and checked on Alice and Jake in the back of the wagon, shaded by the canvas covering. Alice met his gaze then looked away, she cradled Jack in her arms and it looked like he was asleep after the scare in the store.

  He loaded up the goods he’d bought and hopped up onto the bench seat.

  “Will you be all right riding back there?”

  She nodded, not meeting his gaze.

  “Alice,” he said, waiting until her eyes found his. “It was an accident in there. Don’t worry about it.”

  He watched her cheeks turn red again and wondered if he shouldn’t have said anything. Had it only made her more self-conscious?

  “Thank you for understanding,” she said. “I…I’m just clumsy.”

  Her defeated tone struck a chord in his heart. Someone had told her that, possibly repeatedly, and she’d believed them.

  “It could have happened to anyone. Really.”

  She looked down, resting a hand on the blanket wrapped tightly around Jack. “But it often happens to me.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Rather than force words that wouldn’t mean anything, he simply turned around and flicked the reins, sending the horses toward home.

  Alice wasn’t like Mary. She was quite, calm, slightly clumsy, and the most jumpy woman he’d met, but there was a sweetness about her that he couldn’t ignore. Mary had been bold, brash at some points, and opinioned. He’d loved that about her and trusted that she would always speak her mind, but he was beginning to see the beauty in Alice. The serenity that made her calm despite her klutzy actions.

  Shaking off his thoughts, he focused on the road ahead of them. It was one step at a time. One conversation at a time. One day at a time.

  Chapter 4

  Alice limped around the kitchen, grinding her teeth when she had to move too quickly for the pain in her ankle. It had gone down when she’d been able to sit with it elevated, but dinner wouldn’t cook itself and Jack needed tending to as well.

  She stirred the stew on the stove and pulled out the tray of biscuits she’d just made. The warm, buttery scent filled the room and her stomach twisted. She’d wait for Robert of course, but they tempted her nonetheless.

  The front door closed and she jerked around, surprised he was home so early.

  “How’s the ankle?”

  Alice still wasn’t used to Robert’s directness. He did most things without preamble and, if something was on his mind, you’d know about it in a heartbeat.

  “It’s…still painful.” She wanted to say she was doing fine, but that wouldn’t be true. It still hurt, but she’d pushed past the pain.

  He frowned. “Why are you standing on it then?”

  Her eyes traveled to the dinner on the stove then back to him. “I needed to.”

  He shrugged but came to her, taking the pan from her and eyeing the stew. Then he directed her toward a chair. “Sit.”

  She did as he instructed and watched as he ladled stew for them both then sat down across from her.

  Watching, he took a sip then met her gaze. “Eat.” It wasn’t a command, more of an offer, but she felt the corner of her lips twitch upward.

  Robert was such an interesting man. There were obviously parts of him that she wasn’t sure he’d ever show her, like the hurt that must have come from losing his wife, but she could only guess at that. But then, in the rare times she got to see the real him, he was funny and kind.

  She took a sip of the stew and was glad it had turned out well. Glancing to the corner where Jack played on a blanket, she allowed herself to relax.

  “At the store,” Robert said, his voice breaking the silence, “You looked pretty scared.”

  She flushed, drilling her eyes into the bowl of stew in front of her. She didn’t want to talk about the embarrassing moments in the store or the fact that she couldn’t calm her jumpy nerves.

  “Yes,” she mumbled.

  “Alice,” he said, waiting until she reluctantly looked up at him. “You were terrified, to put it mildly. Why? It was an accident.”

  Alice dreaded his questions. She would rather be anywhere but here right now, but she wasn’t. Taking in a steadying breath she broke eye contact. “I’m…klutzy.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  Her gaze shot to his and she was sure hurt was reflected there.

  “I’m sorry,” he said hastily. “I didn't mean for that to come out so…harshly.”

  “I…have had some bad experiences.” Memories flashed before eyes. Her father’s hand rose to smack her. Mrs. Banks face, red with rage. She suppressed a shiver.

  “Like what?” Robert said, softer this time.

  “My father hit me as a child. It was my fault, my clumsiness of course, but he had a terrible temper.” Blinking back tears she realized she was rubbing her arm, the one he’d broken by pushing her down the stairs. “And just when I thought I’d escaped him, the head of the house maids where I worked was just as bad.”

  “They hit you?”

  “Yes. Mrs. Banks is a firm believer in corporal punishment.” Alice swallowed, forcing herself to break off part of a biscuit to eat.

  “That’s awful.”

  The tenderness in his tone drew her eyes up to him. He looked genuinely sad and she felt bad. She wasn’t looking for pity from him.

  “It was just a way of life. Clumsiness follows me everywhere I go and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that before. It’s best to keep breakable things away from me.” She gave a mirthless laugh and glanced to Jack. “I’m very careful with Jack though, just so you know.”

  “I’m not worried,” Robert said. His confidence in her sent warmth spreading through her stomach. “But you should know it’s not your fault.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “No one deserves to be struck. Clumsiness or no, it’s not right.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “For what?”

  “Your kindness.”

  ***

  “Don’t mention it,” Robert said. He felt the collar around his neck tighten. Was the room getting warmer? He blinked, focusing on the stew in front of him to distract himself from the fact that he wanted to find her father and punch him in the jaw.

  No man ever had the right to hit a woman, not to mention striking a child. And for clumsiness? What kind of malarkey was that?

  Robert was beginning to piece together the picture of Alice. She was quiet and delicate, but her tenacity spoke volumes for the fact that she had endured far worse than any woman should have to face.

  A feeling swelled in his chest and he realized with surprise that he wanted to protect her. It was a silly notion, there wasn’t anything to protect her from, but he knew he would stand up for her no matter what.

  “Now you know about my past, as unpleasant as it is,” she said. “What about you?”

  Fear coursed through him. He couldn’t tell her about Mary. She wasn’t asking specifically, but sh
e had to wonder, didn’t she? Where was Jack’s mother? What had happened to her?

  He swallowed; unsure of what he could share that wouldn’t lead to any deeper questions.

  “I’m your average, run of the mill guy. Parents live a few towns away and my sister is helping to take care of them. Pa isn’t doing so well.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that.” There was genuine concern in her expression. She was a deeply caring person; he could see that in the way she cared for Jack.

  “It’s life, I guess.”

  “I suppose. We’re doomed to lose the ones we love.”

  Warning bells rang in his mind. This wasn’t a safe topic. “I suppose.”

  “What…” she paused and his adrenaline spiked, “what happened to Jack’s mother? If I may ask.”

  No! She’d asked the one question he didn’t want to answer. Anything would have been preferable to this.

  He swallowed. “Mary…” he cleared his throat, “She died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  His eyes were locked on to the table a few inches in front of his plate. He didn’t dare look up.

  “Where did you meet her?”

  Not more questions. He couldn’t take thinking about her like this. Or at all.

  “I, um,” he sucked in air like a drowning man, “Church.”

  She was silent for a time and he risked a glance at her only to find her eyes resting gently on him.

  He saw compassion and something that looked like understanding in her gaze. He didn't know all that she had been through, but it was possible she understood loss like he did. It would almost be a relief to share his burden with someone as kind and caring as Alice.

  Mary’s sweet face rose to the surface of his mind and the pain came back as fresh as if she’d died yesterday. She had been the one thing he’d gotten right in this life. Scratch that—the first and Jack was the second—but she’d also caused him the most pain he’d ever felt.

  His love for her, begun from afar when he saw her at church that fateful, hot day in August, now acted as a reminder of what had been. Nothing could match up to that…could it?

  He glanced at Alice again, this time her eyes were downcast. Could he learn to love again?

  Just the thought brought him fear. The painful memories in the wake of Mary’s death were enough to make a weaker man go mad. If he hadn’t had Jack, he wasn’t sure what he would have done.

  Now there was another woman in his life. A sweet, delicate, fragile woman who needed protection despite her fierce determination. Alice needed to know that not everyone in her life would hit her. That she truly could feel safe in their home.

  It was wrong though. He wasn’t able to love her—not like she deserved, and not with Mary’s memory hanging on to him like the threads of a dream after you first woke up.

  Without a word he pushed to his feet and noticed her jump in response. He mentally chiding himself for the quick movements and felt even worse when he saw the tremor that went through her hands.

  “Sorry…I have to go.” He turned and left, not even allowing himself a glance back at his son.

  Chapter 5

  Several weeks had passed since their dinner. The one time that she’d seen Robert open up to her, though he did it so begrudgingly. The look of terror on his face when she’d mentioned Jack’s mother had almost made her take back her question, but something had pressed her to continue.

  She felt bolder with Robert, not that you could have seen that from their interactions since, but she wasn’t afraid of him. He had proven himself to be a gentle man and she trusted that he wouldn’t lash out and strike her. It didn’t make her any less jumpy during the day, but when he was home at night and they spent time reading near the fire, she felt as relaxed as she ever had.

  But one thing troubled her. She knew he was still in love with his late wife. It was etched in the lines of his face. The way he looked at his son. The way he looked at her. It was almost as if he wanted to let go of Mary but couldn’t.

  Then again, was Alice reading in to what she wanted to see? It was entirely possible because over the last few weeks she had started to care more deeply for Robert than she would have imagined.

  It was the small things he did. The way he took care of Jack. The way he did simple chores because he knew she didn't like them. The way he brought her gifts from town and left them, never saying a word. He was better at romance than he realized.

  Tears pricked her eyes. What could she do though? She couldn’t make him let go of his former wife. She couldn’t help him get over the loss if he wasn’t willing to talk to her.

  Jack cried out and she bent down and picked him up, snuggling him against her. The only thing that came to mind was telling him how she felt, but the thought terrified her. How could she tell him, a man still grieving the loss of his wife, of her feelings? Was it even fair to tell him? Was it selfish?

  The reality that he was leaving for a week on a cattle drive pressed the thoughts to the forefront of her mind.

  She thought of her own mother and how she had felt after her death. The pain had stayed sharp for a long time, but she’d had a friend who had talked with her about the loss. It had helped.

  Maybe that was it!

  She grabbed a blanket and wrapped Jack up in it then headed toward the barn, her determination driving her despite the nerves buzzing in her stomach.

  Walking into the barn, she took a fortifying breath as she walked toward the back where the light streamed in from the cracks in the boards. Robert used a pitchfork to toss hay into a stall and she paused for a moment, watching the muscles in his back work as he twisted and turned, hefting the hay back and forth.

  “Robert,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

  He turned. “Alice.” He was surprised, but he didn’t look unhappy to see her. “What are you doing out here?”

  She frowned. Now that she was here her resolve crumbled. Could she really tell him what she wanted to?

  “I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

  “All right,” he said, tossing the pitchfork to the ground and coming toward her. He stood, strong arms folded in front of him and an open expression on his face.

  It was now or never. She had to tell him what she was thinking or else risk never gaining the courage to say something again. Dropping her gaze, she sent up a prayer for wisdom to cover her words.

  “I just…” she bit her lip, “I just wanted to tell you that I know how it feels to lose someone you love.” Her brow furrowed in concentration. She couldn’t cry—not now. “I lost my mother and went through a very hard time, especially while I was still living with my father. The other day, when we talked about your wife, I could tell the pain is still very fresh and…I wanted you to know that…I’ll wait.”

  Heat flooded her face and she risked a glance up at him. She knew her message was cryptic but nothing was coming out like she’d planned it.

  “I mean, I can wait for you to share about her—if you ever want to.” She felt disappointment in herself for covering up the reason she’d shared—that she wanted to wait for him to get over Mary—but with Robert standing there, unmoving and unspeaking, she didn’t know what else to do.

  “Thank you,” he finally said. “It is difficult to talk about her. I appreciate your patience.” He turned back to the hay, bending to pick up the pitchfork.

  Apparently their conversation was over. Alice felt the disappointment and turned to go, knowing that, though she’d had the courage to say something, she had been a coward in the end.

  ***

  Robert stared into the campfire, the flames licking the dry logs. The small fire gave off little heat in the chill of the plains, the wind rushing across the open space and cutting through his clothes. It was unseasonably cold tonight but Robert didn’t mind. It matched his mood.

  Alice’s words haunted him, causing him distraction after distraction the whole day. He couldn’t count how many times Leo, the lead hand, had to
call attention to something he’d forgotten to do.

  What was it about that woman that got under his skin and sunk into his thoughts? For such a mild and sweet woman, she took over his mind much to easily.

  “What’s eatin’ at ya?”

  The gravelly voice came from behind his right shoulder and Robert turned to see Leo standing there, cup of coffee in hand.

  “Join me?” Robert offered.

  “Sure.” The man, older than most of the hands, sat down next to Robert and stared into the fire, taking sips of his coffee and squinting his eyes against the brightness of the flames. “So, you going to tell me what’s botherin’ you or what?”

  Robert considered what he could say. His heart was anchored to his late wife but his new wife threatened to break through his loyalty. No, he couldn’t share that. It was his problem. Something he had to deal with.

  “It’s nothing. Sorry about being distracted today. I’ll be more alert tomorrow.”

  “Right,” Leo said, unconvinced. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that new wife of yours now would it?”

  Robert blinked.

  “Thought so.” Leo took another swig of coffee then turned his perceptive gaze to Robert. “What’s the trouble, son?”

  His words were so kind and he seemed genuinely interested in the answer that Robert found himself opening up to the man. Sharing his thoughts and feelings about Alice since she’d arrived.

  When he was done Leo nodded slowly. “I see. Sounds like that new wife of yours has been through a lot. Kind of like you have.”

  “You could say that.”

  “And it also sounds like you’re trying to hold on to the past with one hand and grab onto the future with the other. How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not well.”

  “Far be it for me to tell you what to do, don’t take this as that,” Leo shrugged then looked back into the flames. “But let me just say that folks that are no longer with us don’t tend to hold grudges or have any feelings at all.”

  The harshness of the man’s words struck Robert, but he couldn’t fault the logic.