by Jillian Hart
Anyone could see his scarred heart. “I could never hate you, Jacob.”
“I thought I could do it.”
“I know.” She touched his cheek, feeling the roughsmooth texture of his unshaven jaw. “Why don’t we see what happens? You don’t need to make a decision now.”
He only nodded.
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“It isn’t the baby.” His voice broke. “I wanted you to know.”
“I know.” Tears burned in her eyes. Tears of sadness because she would never know another fine, gentle man like him. “Whatever happens, I love you.”
Jacob swallowed hard, loneliness so dark in his eyes. “Hold me. I need you to hold me.”
Libby set the baby down in her new cradle before he pulled her against his solid chest. She wanted him so much, yet today everything had changed. Except for the way she loved him.
Jacob tried. He really did. He stayed in the house with Elizabeth and did the chores so she could recover from the birth. The blizzard blew out midafternoon, and he fetched the doctor from town, just in case. Elizabeth and the baby were pronounced healthy. Nothing was wrong.
The next morning Elizabeth swore she was fine, and her color was good. He took Emma to school and came back near noon to check on her.
Every day she looked healthier. The tiny baby remained strong.
Sometimes, when he was working over the forge or exercising a horse, the fear would hit him with the thundering speed of a train. He never told Elizabeth how much he loved her, because he couldn’t.
Damn it, he couldn’t.
He could lose her. And then nothing, nothing could save him.
Libby watched Jacob’s silence, felt his distance, saw the shadows in his eyes. He was friendly and polite, bringing in water before she could ask for it, keeping the wood stacked near the hearth, bringing groceries from town.
As she readied Emma for school in the morning and put breakfast on the table, she half expected Jacob to meet her gaze and confide in her. To tell her he needed some time to come to terms with the past. But he consistently avoided her, kept his eyes low, spoke only when necessary.
He’d shut her out of his heart completely. Libby felt hurt and amazed he could so easily erase what they’d shared together. How could he keep his heart so cold, his life so empty and not remember the tenderness of their lovemaking, turn his back on the soul-binding power of their love?
As she sat in the quiet cabin, nursing Lottie in the mornings after Emma and Jacob left, she did not know if he would change, if he could give his heart. And had it been only her, as it had from the beginning, she might stay, she might be able to give Jacob whatever it took to help him heal the bleakness in his heart.
But she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“Jacob?” She pushed open the stable door. A pool of light gleamed in the darkness. Several horses turned to study her curiously. Star nickered.
He emerged from the farthest stall, pitchfork in hand. “Do you need me to carry in more wood for you?”
“No.” Libby unwrapped her shawl, scattering snow to the board floor. No asking how she was. No smile. “You’ve stacked enough wood to see me through an entire blizzard.”
“I just don’t want you doing more than you have to.” He sounded gruff. He turned and went back to his work.
He cared for her. Why else would he worry so about her health? Why else would he do the little chores that made her life so easy? Yet he might as well be standing in another town, the distance between them felt so great.
“I thought we could talk.” She watched him freeze, his strong shoulders tighten, his head bow.
“There’s nothing I want to talk about, Elizabeth. I’m busy here.”
She’d never seen eyes as sad as his. “Jacob, you won’t talk to me in the cabin.”
“What do you mean? I was sitting at the table directly across from you.”
“You didn’t look as if you wanted to talk to me.” Her heart twisted. She held her breath. Then, “Jacob, Emma needs another slate. There was an unexplained accident at Mrs. Holt’s.”
“I’ll see she gets a new one.” His knuckles turned white as he tightened his hold on the pitchfork.
“I can’t keep going on like this.”
“I know.” He kept pitching.
“Something has to change.” She wanted to shake him out of this dreadful politeness. But she held back, uncertain. So uncertain. “I used to dream of a friendly marriage, not the cold silences of my aunt and uncle’s marriage. I don’t want this for Emma or for Lottie.”
His throat worked. “Neither do I. Emma is miserable.”
“And so am I.” Libby’s voice broke.
His gaze shuttered as he studied her. “I thought a friendly existence was enough, too. I was wrong. I can’t love you the way you deserve, Elizabeth. I wish—” He stopped.
“Oh, Jacob.” She ached to take him in her arms and hold him, give him the comfort he needed. A world of doubts held her back. Would he ever, truly need her? The distance between them felt like an ocean.
She took a breath, said what was on her mind. “You’ll give me a reason why I should stay, why I should believe, won’t you?”
His movements stilled. He set down his pitchfork. “No, Elizabeth,” he said quietly. His cold gray eyes focused on hers, full of bleakness. “I never made you any promises.”
“Pcomises?” Heart rending, she fisted her hands. Pain and anger swept over her fast, hard, blinding. “I didn’t ask for promises. I want your heart. I want you to stop tolerating me. I want—”
“Tolerating you?” He winced. Stepped closer. “Don’t you know—” He stopped. “I don’t have the heart for a real marriage. I thought—” He stared down at his big empty hands.
“I’m asking for you to love me, Jacob. That’s all.” It wasn’t so much. Yet it was everything.
Only the grayness in his eyes answered.
“I can’t believe you. How can you let this die between us?”
He could stand there so still, so silent and her entire world was breaking. She knew what they’d shared together was merely a dream, too good to be true. Fairy tales don’t happen to you, Libby Hodges. But she’d had a glimpse of happiness, of love and family and a deep abiding connection with Jacob that felt as wide as eternity. And she’d hoped—
It hadn’t meant that to him. She hadn’t meant that to him. He would never let go of his fears, of his past, and embrace this life and her love.
“Do something, Jacob. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
He lifted a shoulder in a one-sided shrug. “Emma needs you. Please—”
“This isn’t about Emma.” Though her heart cracked at the thought of leaving the child. “It’s about your heart and what you won’t give me. Some people have nothing, Jacob. No family, no home, no sunshine of a daughter waiting to fill up their lonely lives. Nothing, do you understand?”
“Yes.” Eyes so deep, so filled with pain, met hers without excuse. His throat worked. “But I could have lost you.”
“So that’s why you’re refusing to love me now? Why you’re letting me leave?”
“You’re leaving?” His face hardened. It was difficult to read what flickered in his eyes.
“Yes. As I see it, I have little choice.” She had to go. She wouldn’t spend her life begging for any man’s love, endlessly hoping and waiting for something that might never happen. “I’ll be moving back to town today.” Unless you would change your mind, your heart.
Please, she silently prayed.
“I can’t let you go.” His voice broke. “You can stay here, I thought we were getting along well. I thought—”
“Being your housekeeper isn’t enough.” She stopped, tried to hold back the bright fire of anger popping in her chest. “I love you, Jacob.”
She turned, tears smarting her eyes, and hurried toward the open stable doors.
“Elizabeth.” His voice called her back. “You jus
t can’t leave with a new baby and no way to support yourself. Where would you go?”
Fury, blinding hot, bolted through her. Maybe leaving was the right thing. There was no hope for him, no chance he would ever give her his heart.
“That’s what you’re worried about? How I’ll support myself?” She shoved her fisted hands in her cloak pockets. All her life she’d lived peaceably, never dreaming of harming another, but now she wanted to take the handle of that pitchfork and use it to smack some sense into him.
“It’s a cruel world,” he said reasonably. “You said yourself you can’t work and take care of a baby at the same time.”
“I’ll be fine. I have savings. I can work.” What she didn’t have was him. When the snows left and the stage ran again, she would head to her aunt in Chicago, to that home of cold silences. But she needn’t stay there long. In time, she would be on her feet again, able to support both herself and Lottie. “Don’t worry about me, Jacob Stone.”
“But, I—” Emotion shadowed his eyes, and he looked for a second as if... But no, he stared down at the ground. “I could give you the shanty I keep out behind the livery. It’s snug and sturdy. You could live there as long as you want.”
“I’m staying with Maude. I spoke with her yesterday.”
“It’s decided then.” He paused, then his shoulders slumped.
Why wouldn’t he fight? Libby’s heart had never hurt like this. And as angry as she was, she could plainly see he was hurting, too. She’d changed the rules. He’d been perfectly clear at the start stating what he could offer her and what he would not. You will be my wife in name only. Not in my heart and not in my bed. She was in his bed. Could she be in his heart, too?
She stepped closer and laid her hand on his arm, aware of his solid male strength and heat beneath the flannel of his shirt. A good man she loved with every bit of her heart. “I have Lottie now, Jacob. I can’t be depending on a man who isn’t my husband.”
He covered her hand with his. “I’ll keep Star in the livery for you. For free. Let me do this small thing if you won’t accept anything else from me.”
She hesitated, weighing his words, weighing what his gift of the mare had meant to him. Pride strengthened her. Anger sharpened her voice. “I want your love, Jacob. Nothing else. You might as well keep the mare, keep her for Emma.”
His eyes winced. “I see.”
She watched his fists clench, felt his pain filling the barn like a cold wind. She could not forget the power of loving him, could not erase the tides of her heart. Once, a safe home and a kind man sounded like paradise. Now, it was not enough for her or her daughter.
Libby forced herself to walk away, the most difficult steps she’d ever taken.
Jacob kept a tight rein on his heart. He could not allow himself to feel anything—no grief, no anger. It was better that way.
He loaded Elizabeth’s few possessions, one small crate and two carpet bags, into the back of his sled, determined not to look at her. But her morning-soft voice, rich and drawing, tugged at him whenever he stepped into the cabin to haul out another satchel of her belongings.
“No, you can’t go,” Emma’s high voice broke into tears, echoing in the kitchen.
Jacob staggered, as if an arrow had pierced his heart. If only he could keep Emma from being hurt, from knowing loss and grief. He didn’t want his daughter hurt. He stopped, almost wondered if he could try. If maybe...
“I’ve already told your pa, Emma. You know that He’s loading the little sleigh for me right now.”
“Nooo.”
The tortured pain rang in her voice. He screwed shut his eyes. Grief washed over him like an ocean, cold and dark and suffocating. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t let her stay. And Emma—
“Make her stay, Pa!” Desperate words.
He looked down into her tear-filled eyes, at Mary’s eyes, and his heart crumbled. The sheer impact of loving Elizabeth and now of losing her terrified him beyond his ability to endure. He had so much to lose and nothing, nothing terrified him more.
“It’s Elizabeth’s decision,” he managed to reply.
“Pa!” Emma stomped her foot. “Pa, you can’t let her go. She’s going to be my mother now. I have a baby sister and everything.”
“There’ll be no argument.” He cleared his throat and gazed into Elizabeth’s eyes.
So clear, so deep and angry. “Have it your way, Jacob,” she said. “Goodbye.”
“No, Libby, you have to stay here with me!” Emma cried with all of her broken heart. “Pa, please, please, please make her stay!”
Elizabeth looked down, lifted her cloak from the wooden peg by the door and methodically slipped into the worn garment. “I’m sorry, Emma. Maybe you could walk me to the sleigh.”
“No. You can’t leave me.” Emma’s pain nearly broke him.
He swallowed hard and opened the door, tried hard to be different. For Emma. “Elizabeth, maybe you could wait and see. Maybe—”
“This is goodbye, Jacob,” she whispered, her voice wobbling, then knelt to gather up her baby.
Stop her, his heart demanded. Keep her from walking away. He could reach out now and grab her back into the safety of his arms. Keep her here and keep trying—
Emma burst into tears and ran out the door after Elizabeth. He leaned against the door frame and watched the gentle love in her touch as she brushed away Emma’s tears, then knelt to give her a goodbye hug.
Jacob stepped out onto the porch. Elizabeth granted him one last smile before climbing into the sleigh. Every feeling in his heart welled into his throat and he fought down those feelings. He could not risk changing his mind. He simply couldn’t.
He watched her drive away, his heart shattering, Emma’s grief as sad as the wind. Every step he took toward his little girl ached in his soul. She sat on the snow, crumpled and crying. Elizabeth’s sleigh disappeared around the bend and was gone.
“You let her leave!” The accusation came sharp as a knife. “Pa, you have to go get her. You have to—”
Sobs tore up her throat, and he lifted little Emma from the frozen ground and into his arms, holding her tight, willing the pain from her heart. She was so delicate, so special. He wanted to protect her, save her from the same kind of gnef.
Elizabeth could have died. It was all he could think about. And if he loved her again, there would be another baby, maybe another night of fear and death.
His heart squeezed. “Come inside, Emma.”
“No!” She kicked and struggled, so full of pain.
He set her down and she raced into the cabin, her shoes striking the floor with a force that echoed through the suddenly empty rooms.
Jacob stood in the threshold, realization sweeping over him. His home was now a house again, his life merely an existence. Without Elizabeth, he was nothing.
A thud in Emma’s room sent him into action. He climbed the ladder to find her kneeling on the floor, tears staining her face, sobs racking her small body, shoving her beloved Beth doll into an opened satchel. All around her were Elizabeth’s touches—the braided rug, the bright quilt, the rosebud ruffly curtains all made with a mother’s loving hand.
“Emma, stop this.” He knelt beside her, laid his big hand on her tiny shoulder.
Emma tilted up her face, tears raining down her cheeks. “I’m going to find Libby, Pa. I’m gonna go get her back.”
“Precious, I don’t think—”
“I love her,” Emma sobbed, and he felt her heart breaking just as deeply as his own.
“I know, Emma.” He closed his eyes, drawing her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest, this amazing blessing of a child. He felt her tears hot against his throat, staining his collar. And he held her until there were no more tears, only silence and the emptiness of a house—of a life—without Elizabeth.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Libby found help in her friends. Several of the women who lived in the boardinghouse offered to help out with Lottie. And M
aude took the infant in her protective arms and cared for her daily so Libby could work.
Leah greeted her with a warm hug and an immediate offer of employment. There had been such a shortage of women in town who needed work, she hadn’t found anyone to replace Libby.
It wasn’t a bad life. Really. Working and caring for Lottie left Libby little time for dwelling on her loss, on her choices. She often wished, especially alone in her bed at night, that she had stayed, given Jacob more of a chance. She knew in her heart she couldn’t fix what hurt inside him. Not even her love could do that.
She would look forward to her future with Lottie. The snows would soon melt and the stage would run again, and she would go on, without Jacob, no matter how much it hurt.
“Jacob, I told you no. Libby doesn’t want it.” Maude held the handful of gold coins in the palm of her hand.
He sighed. “She’s got all she can do taking care of that baby. Let me do this for her. She doesn’t need to know.”
“Trust me, she knows. And she doesn’t want such a trifling from you.” Those wise eyes assessed him.
Jacob winced. “She won’t accept anything else.”
“She doesn’t want you paying her rent.” Maude laid the pile of gold on the top rail of the nearest board.
An appaloosa pony popped his head out of the stall and began lipping those eye-catching coins. Jacob rescued the gold. When he looked up, Maude was gone.
Elizabeth had refused even this small token from him. He felt so empty. Hurting for her at night, aching for her in the day, his life felt empty and bleak, she might as well have died the night she’d given birth. Lord knows his heart had.
And Emma... They tried to go on, the two of them, but nothing was the same without Elizabeth.
“Pa, I got a hole in my sock.” Emma produced the offending article, a pretty red stocking Elizabeth had knitted while sitting in that empty chair before this very fire.
