by Linda Ford
She sighed. When had life gotten so complicated?
Long before this. She jolted at the words that came to her. What did her past hold that was complicated?
She smiled. She had Mikey. But he wasn’t hers. What was to become of the poor boy while he waited for his adoptive parents?
The little guy stood with his forehead pressed to the door, his eyes closed.
“He’s going to fall asleep right there,” she whispered.
“Best take him up to bed.”
She scooped the boy into her arms. He made a sound of protest then nuzzled into her neck. He didn’t even waken as she tucked him into bed.
But she wasn’t any better than Mikey. She didn’t want to go to sleep until Jesse came home so she returned downstairs, chose a book from the shelf and sat down to read.
*
A light glowed from the living room. Jesse stopped in front of the house and looked at the window. Had Gram left the lamp for him or was she waiting up? He moved to the right and then the left in an attempt to see inside the house. Someone sat on the couch. It wasn’t Gram.
He rumbled his lips. He had stayed out all evening, had gone down the road and followed the tracks of the men who had stopped them. Far as he could tell, they’d continued northward. He hoped that meant they were only passing through and wouldn’t be a bother. Later, he’d taken supper at Miss Daisy’s Eatery. Her sister, Miss Dorie, waited on tables. He spent a considerable amount of time deflecting Miss Dorie’s questions as to why he chose to eat there when his Gram was two blocks away.
“She’s not sick, is she?”
“How can you hope to run a profitable business if you try and dissuade people from eating at your establishment?” He was certain he’d kept the annoyance from his voice, but Miss Dorie sniffed, refilled his coffee cup and marched away to wait on others. Who—if Jesse was honest with himself—offered her more pleasant company.
He didn’t mean to be grumpy but Emily’s accusation ground in the pit of his stomach. What made her think he needed to prove to anyone, least of all himself, that he was a good man? It didn’t even make sense.
But no amount of internal argument had settled the matter for him and now she appeared to be waiting up for him. Not many hours past he would have found the idea appealing.
Now he would have gone to his office and spent the night in the jail cell, but he’d had to sleep there on occasion and found it most uncomfortable. He wanted his own bed. Sucking in air until his lungs could hold no more, he opened the gate and strode to the door. His hand hovered above the knob for two seconds and then he threw back the door and stepped inside.
Emily jumped to her feet. “Thank goodness you’re home. I worried you might have run into trouble.”
“What sort of trouble did you have in mind?” he asked dismissively.
She faltered then answered him. “Those three men might have turned back looking for revenge for what happened this afternoon.”
He hung his hat on the hook by the door and spent several minutes pulling off his boots. Finally, with nothing more to divert him, he straightened. “You don’t need to concern yourself with me. I’m careful.”
“That’s good to hear.” She took two steps toward him.
Not about to let her say anything more to hurt him, he crossed his arms over his chest.
She read his signal and stopped. Regret drew lines from the corner of her mouth.
He had only to reach out and touch her face to rub them away. But a wall of resistance kept him from moving, even though his heart cried out to comfort her.
“Jesse, I want to apologize for what I said this afternoon. It was uncalled-for and untrue. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” She moved closer. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You’re a good, kind man and you know it as well as I do.” She rested her gentle palm on his forearm.
All resistance melted. He covered her hand with his. “The trouble is, there is truth to what you said.” He hadn’t admitted it to himself until this very moment.
“How is that?”
“I told you about my mother.”
She nodded, her eyes never shifting away, even at the awkward topic.
Finding courage in her steady gaze, he continued. “I always thought there was something wrong with me that my mother didn’t see any value in spending time with me. I only believed it more strongly when my friends mocked me. Then I met Agnes.”
Emily nodded. “You told me about Agnes.”
“I didn’t tell it all. She lived here with her family for a time. I courted her and thought she cared for me. But when I told her about my mother, she drew back. After that she refused to see me, and her family moved away a short time later. The only place where I knew people would respect me was in my role as sheriff, so you were right. Through my job I am trying to prove that I am good enough.”
Both her hands now rested on his arm, warm and steady. Not a bit of shrinking back. Perhaps that would come later. When she realized that he was a man with no known father. He’d often wondered why his mother had used the last name Hill on his birth certificate but she’d never told him.
Emily edged forward until he could smell the scented soap Annie had given her and the little-boy smell from having held Mikey.
“Who are you proving it to? Not me, despite my unfair words. Not to Gram or the Marshalls. I venture to say that anyone who knows you knows you are a good, noble, kind man. Don’t you need to believe it, too?”
He considered her words. “Not everyone would agree with you.”
“Do you need everyone’s approval?”
“I suppose not.” But to have the acceptance of a woman who would take him with his past, his present and his future would be nice. Perhaps a dream he wasn’t worthy of.
“Do you forgive me for my unkind words?” she asked.
“Of course. And forgive me for being offended.”
She pulled him toward the couch. “I’ve been reading. You have an excellent selection of titles. Have you read them all?”
“Not that novel by Jane Austen.” He pretended to shudder. “Gram reads it at least once a year and sighs repeatedly at the romance.”
Emily laughed, picked up the book she’d been reading and showed him the cover. “Guess what I’ve chosen.”
He shook his head as if distressed when he read the title, Pride and Prejudice. “Have you been sighing lots?”
She clutched the book to her bosom and sighed, her eyes merry with amusement. “It’s so romantic.” She grew serious—or, at least, she attempted to appear so—as she held the book toward him. “Jesse, you really ought to read it.”
“Would it fix what’s wrong with my life?”
“Well, it won’t help you find those bad guys who held up the stagecoach, but it will provide a little romance in your life.”
Their gazes melded. He wished he could see to the core of her being and know who she was.
He felt her searching just as deeply and held back only a portion of his thoughts. “Do I need romance?” His voice had deepened. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.
“I think we all need love and romance.” Her eyes held the color of the last blue of the sky just before the light of the sun vanished. He could almost see the flicker of sunlight behind the darkness of her irises.
“Do you need love and romance?” Would she accept it from the likes of him—a man marked and marred by the life his mother had lived?
She blinked and the moment ended. “What I need is to get my memory back and learn who I am.”
How had he forgotten that he didn’t know who she was? For all he knew, she might be married. By not taking into account a woman’s marital status, he acknowledged he wasn’t all that different from his mother. He would apologize to Emily, but she had no idea of the direction his thoughts had gone and he feared to say something that would only make Emily uncomfortable.
She laid the book aside. “I will say goodnight now.”
“Sleep we
ll.”
“I will, now that you have forgiven me.” Her smile filled him with warmth.
He listened to her footsteps on the stairs and as she walked down the hall. Her door closed with a faint click. He picked up the book and stared at the title. Pride and Prejudice. How fitting. It was the latter that marred his life. He’d developed the former to protect his heart.
His gaze drifted to the window. She’d been worried about his safety. Concerned that her words had hurt him. Apart from his grandmother and the Marshalls, who were like family to him, he’d never known that kind of caring from anyone else.
Tomorrow he would go with her to the doctor, if she would allow it, and hopefully learn how to help her regain her memory. Would knowing who she was make things easier or more complicated?
The truth shall set you free. He nodded as he recalled the scripture. It would set her free to resume her life. What would it do for him? It would surely make it possible for him to resume his life, as well. A sheriff who did his duty and guarded his heart.
He put the book on the side table and turned out the lamp. For some reason, he felt compelled to make sure the doors were firmly latched. Gram had left open one window in the kitchen to let in the cool night air and he closed it. She would complain in the morning, but Emily was right. There were men out there who would not hesitate to harm others. He couldn’t be looking for them and guarding Emily at the same time. In the morning, he would deputize Clarence and send him out to look for a man wearing silver-toed boots and a horse with an odd-shaped shoe. And anything else that might lead them to the murdering trio.
*
“Do you want me to go with you?” Jesse asked the next morning, as Emily nervously prepared to leave the house to visit the doctor. At his words, he watched the tension drain from her.
“I would appreciate it, but don’t you have a job to attend to?”
“I’ll look around as we go there and thus do my job at the same time.” As soon as he got the verdict from the doctor he would find Clarence and then take care of the paperwork that dogged his heels. He liked being a sheriff but didn’t much care for being his own secretary. It was part of the job, though, so he did it to the best of his ability. There were often letters from other sheriffs asking him to keep an eye out for someone. Or asking about a family that they searched for. Today he was more anxious than normal to open his mail, hoping there would be something about a missing young woman and child. Except no one would know of their circumstances. The Newmans had moved on. Whoever had sent her would think she was with them. But, sooner or later, some information would surface.
Emily turned to Gram. “Are you sure you don’t mind watching Mikey?”
Gram chuckled at the little boy and the dog playing in the backyard. “It’s a pleasure to see Muffin enjoying Mikey’s company. You two run along. We’ll do just fine together.”
Jesse steered Emily down the step to the sidewalk. “Don’t look so regretful.”
“I know she has sewing to do and I’m keeping her from it. Just as I know I am keeping you from your work.”
He tucked her arm around his elbow, liking the feeling of taking care of her. He told her about some of the letters he’d received. “So, you see, it’s my job to find lost individuals, as well.”
She increased the pressure of her hand on his forearm. “Well I’m glad I am giving you meaningful work.” Her laugh lacked mirth. “I welcome your company. I confess I am afraid.”
“Of what? Of not getting your memory back? Surely the doctor can fix that.”
“I’m as afraid of what I’ll learn about myself when my memory returns as I am that my memory won’t return.”
“You told me to believe I am a good man. I’m asking you to believe you are also a good person.”
“I’m trying. Truly I am.”
He noticed how nervously she glanced about as they crossed the street. Did she have a reason other than her loss of memory to be fearful? He hated the doubts arising within him, and yet his job and his life had taught him to be cautious.
They reached the doctor’s house and entered the office door. A young man and an older woman were already there. Jesse knew them both and they exchanged greetings.
Emily sat on a bench waiting for the doctor to call her. Her hands twisted together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. If they’d been alone he would have taken her hands between his and told her not to be afraid.
Instead, he remained standing, her tension reverberating along his nerves. He tried to imagine how it would feel not to know who he was. No doubt he, too, would wonder what sort of person he’d been. Maybe the hurtful comments others had sent his way would feel true. That must be how it was for Emily.
Doc saw the waiting woman. A few minutes later she emerged, then the doctor saw the young man.
Jesse sat at Emily’s side. “Whatever happens, you have friends here. Don’t forget that.”
She darted a glance his way. “I’m hoping they will still be my friends if I learn something awful about myself.”
“I can’t imagine there would be anything like that.”
The doctor opened the door. “Which of you is the patient?”
Emily jerked to her feet. “Me. But I want Jesse to come in, too.”
“Very well.”
They followed Doc into the examining room. Jesse looked around. Where was Albert Stevens, the young man who had become Doc’s assistant when Doc’s daughter, Kate, married Conner?
Doc saw his curiosity. “Young Stevens has gone to check on Mrs. Adams and her new baby. Now, what can I do for you, Miss Emily?”
Emily perched on the edge of the hard chair. “My memory hasn’t returned. What can you do to help?”
Jesse knew his hat would be permanently crooked if he didn’t quit twisting it, but he couldn’t make himself stop.
Doc leaned forward. “Are you having headaches?”
Emily shook her head. “I feel fine. I just need to remember who I am.”
Jesse wondered if Doc heard the way her voice trembled.
“My dear, sometimes our brain blocks something fearful or hurtful and doesn’t let us remember until we feel the danger has passed. I suspect that might be what is happening with you.” He studied her a moment, his face swathed in sympathy. “Do you experience fear or perhaps sorrow?”
She blinked rapidly as if keeping tears back.
Jesse wanted nothing so much as to take her hands and comfort her.
Her voice crackled as she answered the doctor. “I worry I might not like who I am. I wonder if I’ve done something awful. I feel nameless fears.”
Doc considered her answer for a moment. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you anything to help you remember but I can suggest a few things you can do.”
Jesse caught his breath, heard Emily do the same as they waited for Doc’s recommendations.
“First, realize your fears might be false. Our brain can do strange things to us. So can our hearts. The Bible says ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.’ In part, that means what we tell ourselves is not always true. Second, stop trying to remember. Go out, visit people, do fun things. Live as normal a life as you can. I believe doing so will make your brain relax. And last, but by far not least, trust the good Lord.” He came around the desk and patted Emily’s shoulder. “He has good things planned for you.”
Emily nodded. “I feel like that man in the Bible who said, ‘I do believe; help my unbelief.’”
“Keep praying that and you’ll do just fine.”
“Will my memory ever return?” she asked.
“I can’t say. But I know you can’t wish it back or force it back.” He patted her shoulder again.
She slowly got to her feet. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“I wish I could be of more help.”
Jesse led the way out of the doctor’s office. They fell in side by side. He guessed she was as unsettled by the doctor’s words as he. Trusting God wasn’t always ea
sy. And relaxing when it was the last thing one wanted to do was nigh unto impossible. He decided right then and there that it was up to him to help her do both.
“Do you want to see my office?” he asked, suspecting she wasn’t ready to return to the house.
“I’d like that.” They passed the schoolhouse, now silent as the children spent the summer with their parents, helping with farmwork and gardening and tending younger siblings. They reached the town square.
“It was Grandfather Marshall’s idea to have a little park in the center of town, a place that invited friends and neighbors to exchange greetings and visit for a bit.” The benches and flowers added to the inviting atmosphere.
Emily glanced about. “It’s a nice place.”
He understood her distraction. They angled across the street to his office, which was next to one corner of the park. He occasionally sat a spell on the bench closest to his office to watch the activities of the town. From his open window he could enjoy the scent of the flowers.
He held the door and let her precede him into his domain.
She circled the small room, paused to examine the likenesses on the wanted posters. “I wish I’d seen their faces.”
He knew she meant the men who had held up the stagecoach.
She continued on to the small cell. “This get used often?”
“Often is a relative term. It would suit me fine if it never got used.”
She looked at the rifles racked on the wall and came full circle to face him.
He leaned on the front of the desk. “What do you want to do for fun?”
The way she blinked, he knew she hadn’t taken the doctor’s orders to heart. A teasing light flashed through her eyes.
“Perhaps I could challenge someone to a horse race.”
He eyed her. “Do you ride?”
She shrugged. “If I don’t, there’s no time like the present to learn.” The teasing ended abruptly. “I hoped he could fix me.” She flung away to press her forehead against the front window.
While she sorted her thoughts, he went through the unopened mail on his desk looking for anything concerning Emily and Mikey. He found nothing and shoved aside the mail to deal with later.
