Home for Good

by Jessica Keller

  Crawling back to his loved ones, Jericho worked the watch off his wrist and pushed it into Chance’s hands. “My dad gave me this watch, and my grandpa gave it to him. I’m giving it to you to hold for me. That’s how you know I’m coming back. Okay, buddy? All I’m going to do is find somewhere safer for us and then come back for both of you.”

  Biting down on her lip, Ali nodded.

  “But I doooon’t want you to goo-oo.” Chance broke into a fresh torrent of tears. The tent drooped lower under the weight of gathering water.

  “Chance. Hey, I need you to be extra brave for me. Your mom needs a guy to protect her while I’m gone. Can I trust you to do that?”

  Sniffling, Chance gave one little nod. Jericho turned to leave, then went back to Ali. He cupped the side of her face, and she leaned into his hand. “I will come back for you guys.”

  Sloshing out of the campsite, Jericho lost his balance and grabbed for a nearby tree. Missing it, he went down hard into the gathering mud. As he rose, a ball of pain scorched his knee. His muscles screamed at him to crumble to the ground again, to weep against the ache. But they needed him.

  That thought pressed him forward through the torrential downpour into the canyon.

  * * *

  The minute Jericho slipped out of the tent, doubts assaulted Ali’s mind and dared to yank away any hope rooted by their earlier whispered conversation.

  No more army. No more leaving.

  As she leaned her chin on Chance’s head, her husband’s words danced through her mind. I just wanted to come home. The single thought that gave me any hope was you. If you let me, I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

  Her poor Jericho. All he had been through in the past eight years wrenched at her heart. The same experience might have produced an angry and bitter man in someone else. Instead he had grown compassionate, patient and confident.

  And he had nearly died. That halted her thoughts. In all the years of his absence, the fact that he could die never really occurred to her. Goose bumps rose along her arms—whether from the chill of the rain pouring into the tent, from Chance’s quiet sobs, or from the thought of losing Jericho, she couldn’t be certain. She did know that she never wanted to feel this way again. Raw from eight years of bitterness. Could offering forgiveness really heal her, too?

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  The top of the tent began to shudder, ripping from aged seam to aged seam under the weight of the water pooling at the top. Chance screamed as a trough full of rainwater gushed down, drenching them. Shivering in the huddle of torn canvas, Ali peeked at the storm. The violence of the striking lightning shook the small cliff face they camped on. She prayed the forest wasn’t dry enough to ignite like it had ten years ago. A powerful wash of rain sent their pots and pans crashing and clanging over the edge of the mountain. A scream lodged in her throat, Ali yanked Chance out of the way.

  She worked her lip and brushed the damp hair from her face as she cradled Chance tighter against her. Should they get up and leave? Seek shelter on their own? Something might have happened to Jericho. He had bad knees, after all. Ali shouldn’t have let him go out onto the slippery mountainside.

  “Chance! Ali!” The man’s voice boomed through the forest. His call thawed out her nerves, and with shaking legs she pulled Chance to his feet.

  “Over here, Jericho!” she hollered.

  Lightning sliced the night sky, eliminating the outline of Ali’s protector, his white T-shirt clinging to ready muscles. He slogged toward them, and she could tell from the set of his brow what all the climbing today cost him.

  “You came back.” She breathed as he drew near.

  “Always, Ali.” He crouched down, scooping Chance into his arms. “Follow me.” He pressed his lips close to her ear so she could hear him over the howling wind. “I found a place that’ll keep us safe.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rush of rainwater formed a thick rut along the mountain path as Ali ducked her head, trying to follow Jericho’s steps while he carried Chance. Wind whipped over her, threatening to toss her off the cliff’s edge. Rain plastered her hair and stole her sight. Blinking, she slipped, her legs splaying out at awkward angles in the mud as a shriek caught in her throat. Tumbling forward, her foot caught, and she slammed down onto her chin. A warm metallic taste registered on her lips. Blood. Pressing up onto her knees, she wiped her mouth and bit back tears. She couldn’t see them anymore. Gone.

  “Hey. There you are.” Jericho appeared through the tree line, Chance clinging to him like a burr. “You hurt?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll live.”

  He bent and offered his hand. Knees wobbling, she rose. He laced his fingers through hers and led them to a natural stone staircase. They splattered up and tripped on the slicked rocks a time or two before reaching the top of the climb. The scent of decaying leaves and wet moss clung to her nostrils.

  “Almost there,” he said.

  Jericho hesitated, but when a flash of lightning lit the sky, he jerked to the left and tugged Ali along. Traversing over a mound of jumbled rocks, he motioned to a small chasm in the mountain wall. Not quite deep enough to be called a cave, an overhang blocked the small area from the worst of the storm’s wrath.

  Stooping, he shuffled into the den and dropped down. “We’re safe now, bud.”

  “I want my bed. I hate camping.” Chance stomped his little foot.

  “It’s not so bad. You’ll have an adventure to tell Kate and Megan about, won’t you?”

  Chance stuck out his bottom lip. “I’m not ever doing this again.”

  “Come here, Chance.” Her son needed no more invitation to climb into Jericho’s lap.

  Scooting onto the dry earth, Ali leaned her head against the rock wall. They were closed in tight. Leaving a foot of space between herself and the boys meant half her body still got a sprinkling of rain from the unprotected opening.

  Jericho lifted his arm, making room for her. “Come here. I promise I won’t bite.”

  Running a hand over her drenched hair, she gave him a wary look then slid over a fraction of an inch. He leaned over, hooked her by the waist and pulled her against his side. She shouldn’t be this near to him. His presence, even waterlogged and cold, had the power to throw her off course. But did that even matter anymore? Not tonight. Not when it felt like they were a hundred miles from another person. Not with her family tucked tightly together. For the first time since Denny’s death, warmth spread through her body, almost alleviating the ache inside.

  Chance motioned to her. “Come closer, Mom.”

  Kate’s words replayed in her head. Your family wants you. Why would you say no to that?

  Pressing herself along Jericho’s side, she reached out to her son. Chance looped his arms around her neck and pressed his downy cheeks against her neck. The bottom half of his body draped across Jericho.

  “I love you, Mom,” he whispered.

  Words caught in her throat. “You too, Chance.”

  “And you, Jericho,” Chance mumbled against her hair.

  * * *

  Jericho tightened the hold he had on Ali’s shoulder, his heart doing a double-time march.

  He wound his free arm over Chance’s legs and swallowed against the gritty lump in his throat. “Hey, love you too, bud.”

  As the child’s breathing evened, Jericho shifted to look at Ali. His stomach catapulted into his throat. Turned to the side, her face was only inches from his. It would take a mere second to lean forward and brush his lips against hers, to test her response. But Ali’s eyes searched his with such intensity that he looked away. He could tell by the tilt of her head that she considered telling him the truth.

  He’s my son. Isn’t he? The words almost reached his lips, but he reined them in. He could never be sati
sfied without his wife and her son in his life. His insides seared like hot metal. He wanted it all. But he’d forfeited all those privileges eight years ago.

  He didn’t even know what to do when the child cried. Weeks ago, Ali had been right to say that Chance had only one parent, her. Jericho sure didn’t know how to take care of Chance. It wasn’t like he had had a stellar example of a father.

  But I am. The words from his memory flooded his heart.

  Jericho squinted out into the storm. God? The voice sounded so real. So he silently prayed, asking God to protect his family as they rode out the storm, and that their return hike tomorrow would prove uneventful.

  “Tripp wants to marry me.”

  Her words jarred him worse than a slap upside the head. He swung around, trying not to disturb Chance. “What?”

  She brushed the hair from Chance’s forehead.

  His lips tightened. “You can’t. We’re married. You can’t.” Not his most convincing or eloquent argument, but it’s all he had.

  Leaning the side of her head on Chance’s, she locked gazes with Jericho. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything.”

  “Are you in love with him?” He hated his sudden shortness of breath.

  Lifting her head, Ali offered a tight-lipped smile. “He’s been very good to us.”

  “But—”

  “He’s handled all the stuff with the lawsuit. Then, even though it’s not in his realm of practice, he found answers to all my other questions about setting up Big Sky Dreams, and he found someone at the firm he works at to go over all the paperwork when Ma got admitted to the home. Then when your dad had his stroke, Tripp seemed just as upset about it as anyone, and he came to tell me first.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. He’s always hated me and Pop.” Jericho tried to keep the growl out of his voice.

  “Maybe hate’s not the right word.” She looked up and to the left, one eye squinting a bit in thought. “Jealous? That fits better. I think, for some reason, he was always jealous of you. I mean, look at it. From the outside, all he knew was that you grew up the son of a rich rancher, while he had a single mom who struggled to make ends meet. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe that’s why I have a soft spot for him—the single-mom part.”

  Jericho didn’t like talking about soft spots in her heart, not if they had anything to do with Tripp Phillips. “No. I think it’s just that he’s always been smitten with you and now he thinks he has his chance to move in for the kill.”

  She looked out at the steady cascade of water flowing down the rocks.

  He jerked his bum knee to the side. “I don’t want you around him. He’s dangerous.”

  She turned, and her eyes flashed. “I’m grateful to you for watching over us these last few weeks. But you can’t tell me who I can and can’t spend time with.”

  He gritted his teeth together. Technically, he could do exactly that. “I think he’s behind the stuff that’s going on at the ranch.”

  Ali shook her head. “No. You’re wrong. It was Rider. I fired him. Nothing’s happened since.”

  “Nothing’s happened in two days. So that means you’re in the clear?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Maybe.”

  “Let me tell you what I think. Tripp Phillips has always been sweet on you, and none of this started happening until I came back in town. If Rider Longley had some vendetta against you, don’t you think he would’ve done something about it sooner?”

  Her brow formed a V. The patter of rain began to lessen, signaling the end of the storm.

  “Connect the dots. We know for sure that Tripp saw us together at the picnic. You said that he has access to your organization, so that explains the missing money. He knew you’d be at the nursing home the day your tires were slashed. And he’s the only person I know with the kind of pull to get his hands on medicine that would down a horse—”

  She covered her ears. “Stop!”

  “I’m just stating the facts.”

  Ali blinked a couple times. “Why does everything have to change all the time? Why can’t people be as they seem? I hate it.”

  He adjusted his position, pulling Ali tighter against him. “Not all change has to be bad.”

  Her head drooped against his shoulder and she shifted, snuggling into him. “It sure feels that way lately—only bad changes. It’s all I’ve known these last few months. With Ma, and Kate, and you, and Tripp and Den.”

  Jericho rested his chin on her head. “The stuff that matters doesn’t change.”

  “Like what?” Her breathing began to ease.

  “Like God. He’s always constant. And Kate might leave, but it won’t change the fact that she’s your sister and she loves you. One day, when Chance grows up, he’ll want to move out of the house, but it won’t change the fact that he’ll always be your son and he’ll always love you.”

  Jericho stopped and glanced down at her face. Eyes closed, her long lashes splayed out against her sun-kissed cheeks. In sleep, she nuzzled against his chest.

  He whispered with the side of his face resting on her head. “And nothing in this world can change the fact that I love you, Ali. I’ve loved you since we were kids, and I always will. You can tell me to get lost, and I will, but it won’t change my love.”

  * * *

  Ali cuddled closer to the warmth of the body next to hers. And for a moment she imagined herself home, in her own bed. But the protecting sensation of arms encircling her and the jabs of rocks at her back suddenly brought back last night’s escapade.

  The golden fire of sunrise crept its way along the granite cliffs when Ali stirred. At some point during the night, they’d slumped down. Jericho lay on his back, and Ali curled like a happy cat beside him. Chance, who’d always been an active sleeper, ended up in the shallow end of the crevasse, his head on Jericho’s thigh.

  Scooching out from under her husband’s arm, she tried not to wake him. On her knees, she looked down at the two males, and a smile tugged at her lips. They looked one and the same—mouths open slightly, hair rumpled, soft expressions on their faces.

  Pushing out from under the overhang, she tiptoed down the jumble of rocks and the natural stone stairway. A damp mossy smell flavored the morning air, and from her position, she could see the lake below glittering like a sea of diamonds in the first flood of sunlight.

  Their late-night conversation came back to her, and she had to admit that Jericho might be right. Change didn’t have to be negative. Each morning ushered in newness, whether the world wanted it or not.

  Nothing in this world can change the fact that I love you, Ali.

  If only. But the words had been dreamed. Jericho hadn’t spoken them. What would she say to that, anyway?

  Wandering across the open plane, she chose the path back into the woods. She stopped near their campsite, and her worst fears were confirmed. The tent and most of their belongings had become waterlogged, and a rain-fed river had washed it all into the ravine more than fifty feet below. Good thing they got out while they did, or that could have been them down there. Chance’s hatred for camping suddenly sounded entirely rational.

  Not ready to return to her sleeping guys, she brushed aside a branch and squished in the mud on a path leading deeper into the woods. The fresh scent of pine engulfed her.

  Jericho said God didn’t change. But that unsettled her. Because if God didn’t change, that meant Ali had been wrong in her anger these past eight years. She’d always pictured God getting upset with her, saying Enough! and walking away. And she wouldn’t blame Him, either. She’d railed against Him. Spit her rage in His face.

  She gasped. “I changed. Not you. I walked away.”

  Ali swiped at the tears on her cheek. Did God hurt as much when she turned and walked away from Him as she had when Jericho left? And yet, He waite
d with open arms. She felt it. Flipping the image, realizing that she was the one who had left, not God, changed everything in her mind. Her knees felt weak. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Please forgive me,” she whispered.

  When she opened her eyes, her breath caught. Not twenty feet away, a mama moose and her calf grazed on the damp forest grass. They seemed to glide on their stiltlike legs, nosing the ground for tree roots. The sunlight dappled through the canopy, lending a glossy sheen to their black coffee-tinted coats. The cow could charge at her if the mama sensed any threat to her calf, so Ali tried not to move.

  But at the sound of a guttural growl, she spun on her heels. Ali found herself face-to-face with a mountain lion crouching on a rocky ledge. In a millisecond she saw that the size of his paw matched the size of her head, and his teeth looked longer than her fingers. Fierce yellow eyes surveyed her, and his muscles coiled beneath a shimmer of golden hair.

  Her blood ran cold. I’m going to die.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A chill against his back, Jericho stretched. The pressure of Chance’s head resting against his leg made Jericho’s lips pull into a smile. His hip burned from digging against the rocks all night, but it seemed like a small price to pay for snuggling with Ali and her son. He groped to the right, his fingers fumbling across rocks. His eyes jolted open.

  No Ali.

  He sat up, easing a backpack under Chance’s head. Jericho crawled to the edge and peered down the path, but found no sign of her. He turned back to her son, and with a growl picked up the bells that should have been tied around her ankle.

  He shook Chance’s shoulder.

  The boy rubbed his mouth. “Whaa?”

  “Up, Chance. I need you to wake up and help me.”

  Chance sat up, blinking his eyes. His brows drew together.

  Jericho turned to the side and withdrew the gun from his pocket. He jiggled it, hoping the rain last night hadn’t caused any damage. He put it back, then thrust a string of bells into Chance’s hands. “Here’s the deal. Your ma went for a walk and isn’t back yet, so I’m going to go try and find her. I need you to stay here and count to one hundred, then rattle these. Keep doing that until I get back. Okay?”