Matthew was still sorting through all the details of what had just happened. ‘‘All this time, you knew,’’ he whispered, both astonished and a bit irritated. ‘‘And you never said a thing. You let me go mile after mile after mile, looking over my shoulder, not sleeping at night, anxious every time we went into a town.’’
Her hands were knotted at her waist. ‘‘Yes,’’ she answered softly.
Strangely, only now did she appear afraid, after all they’d been through. ‘‘Where did you get the money?’’ As though he needed to ask.
‘‘I took a loan against the ranch.’’ She reached for something on the desk behind her and held it out. Her hand trembled. ‘‘This belongs to you.’’
The struggle mirrored in her expression unnerved him. He took the piece of paper and unfolded it, curious. He read it, then looked back at her. ‘‘What do you think you’re doing?’’
‘‘When I saw that document this morning, I realized that, from the start, Jonathan intended to share this with you. Not with me.
Why do you th—’’ She cleared her throat, a frown forming. ‘‘Why do you think there are two large bedrooms upstairs—identical to each other?’’
‘‘Annabelle . . .’’ He reached for her.
She pulled away, putting up a hand. ‘‘I saw the way you looked at me last night, Matthew. After I told you . . . about how I . . .’’ She blinked, and tears fell. ‘‘I know you can’t look at me in that way anymore.’’
Matthew brushed away a tear, knowing how wrong she was. ‘‘Can’t look at you in what way?’’ He moved closer. ‘‘Like I’m looking at you right now? Annabelle,’’ he whispered, ‘‘if you sensed anything from me last night, it was me wishing that I could go back and change things for you, make them right.’’
‘‘But that’s just it. You can’t change things, Matthew. What happened . . . happened. I can’t erase any of it.’’
‘‘And I’m not asking you—’’ She pointed to the document in his hand. ‘‘If you’ll just sign there on that line, that will make it official.’’
He scanned the sheet again, dwelling on the heavy mark striking through the first entry that contained Johnny’s name . . . as well as his. His throat tightened. When Johnny originally filed the deed, he had listed Matthew as co-owner. All those dreams they’d had as boys, Johnny hadn’t forgotten.
Annabelle’s name and signature were on the next line and had also been crossed through. Underneath that, the name Matthew Haymen Taylor had been written in. He recognized Annabelle’s handwriting.
She took a deep breath and let it out. ‘‘I took some money out for me and Sadie. Not much, but enough for the two of us to get settled. I think Jonathan would have wanted that, under the circumstances.’’
Matthew stared at the deed, taking in what she’d done. This foolish . . . good-hearted woman.
She motioned toward the quill and ink bottle on the desk.
‘‘You’re sure this will make the transfer of the ranch legal and binding? There’s nothing else we’ll need to do?’’ Waiting for her response, he watched the emotions play across her face. Any remaining doubt he had about the kind of woman Annabelle Grayson McCutchens was fell away completely in that moment.
‘‘Yes, I already spoke with the man at the bank this morning.’’
Satisfied, he leaned down to use the top of the desk, then returned the quill to its holder. Annabelle reached for the paper, but he pulled it back slightly, sighing as he did. ‘‘You knew about me but you never said a thing. You never gloated, you never threw it back in my face. You didn’t remind me over and over about what I’d done wrong . . . even though that’s exactly what I did to you.’’
A frown shadowed her lovely brow. He resisted the urge to smooth it away and held out the paper instead. She stared at him for a second, then lowered her eyes to the page. He knew the moment she understood what he’d done.
She gave a small gasp. ‘‘You’re not serious. . . .’’
He closed the distance between them. ‘‘Would I write it in ink if I wasn’t serious, Mrs. McCutchens?’’
A single arched brow said she knew what he was doing, and a hint of a smile said she had sufficiently recovered from her surprise.
‘‘So . . . do I get an answer now?’’ He glanced back at the closed door. ‘‘Or do I have to sweep in and rescue you again?’’
That drew a laugh, as he’d anticipated. ‘‘Oh, please, not that!
I’m afraid if you keep trying to rescue me, you’re going to get us both kill—’’ He put a finger to her lips, remembering the incident at the saloon in Parkston. On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her right cheek, most leisurely, three times—then drew back. ‘‘Just give me your answer, Mrs. McCutchens. Please,’’ he added softly.
Her eyes gained a sparkle. She held up the document and read from it. ‘‘ ‘Matthew Haymen Taylor and Annabelle Grayson McCutchens, equal partners.’ I like the sound of that.’’
Matthew laid the deed aside and gently drew her against him, aware that she came without the least hesitation. ‘‘I’m making that offer on one condition.’’
‘‘And what condition would that be?’’
‘‘That you’ll be open to exploring future partnership opportunities of a more . . . personal nature.’’ Already having seen the answer in her eyes, he traced the curve of her lips with his forefinger. ‘‘Why, Mr. Taylor, are you asking me to dance?’’
He smiled, remembering that night on the prairie. ‘‘In a manner of speaking . . .’’ He brushed the hair back from her right temple and slowly kissed the length of the scar there, willing whatever wounds were left inside her to be made whole and asking that God might somehow use him to help. ‘‘Yes, ma’am, I guess I am.’’
Once she opened her eyes, she searched his face. ‘‘And if I miss a step, will you teach me?’’
Matthew cradled the back of her neck, hearing both the playfulness and seriousness of her request. ‘‘How ’bout we just take things slow and agree to learn together?’’
‘‘I’ll match whatever pace you set, Mr. Taylor,’’ she whispered, smiling. ‘‘I do believe we have ourselves a deal.’’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
One name may grace the cover of a book, but its contributors are many. To the following, I offer my sincerest thanks.
To Jesus, your endless grace and mercy sustain me. To Joe, your wonderful wit has made these past twenty-one years and counting such a joy. I look forward to many more! To Kelsey, your vibrant spirit is a reflection of Christ and a blessing to all who know you— your mom most of all. To Kurt, your tender heart reveals a man of God and makes this mother proud. To Doug and June Gattis, your enthusiasm inspires me. What a blessing to have parents who are also dear friends. To Dr. Fred Alexander, my father-in-law, you donned your editor’s cap to read the final galleys, and your comments and catches were stellar, as expected. Thanks for being one of my greatest (and most humble) encouragers.
To Deborah Raney, you read all my words and make them, and me, so much better. I’m so glad you’re always just a click away. To the CdA Women, your fingerprints of creativity and humor are all over this book. To Judy Hicks, your knowledge about horses is invaluable, as is your friendship. To Suzi Buggeln, you add such sparkle to my life. Thanks for brainstorming Remembered (Book 3) with me at Red Robin. To Virginia Rogers, your insightful comments helped to shape this story early on, and really encouraged me. To the women at Journey, your prayers and kind support continually renew my strength. To Karen Schurrer, your gift with words makes all the difference in my writing, and our shared laughter . . . well, all the difference in my day. To my Bethany House family, partnering with you is pleasure in the purest sense.
To my readers, your responses to Rekindled have encouraged me more than you can possibly know. I love our exchanges and look forward to meeting you face-to-face. And finally, for those who have lost their purity or had it taken from them as Annabelle and Sadie did, there is a place where i
nnocence is restored—His name is Jesus.
TAMERA ALEXANDER is a bestselling novelist whose deeply drawn characters, thought-provoking plots, and poignant prose resonate with readers. Having lived in Colorado for seventeen years, she and her husband now make their home in Tennessee, where they enjoy life with their two college-age children and a Silky named Jack.
Tamera invites you visit her Web site at www.tameraalexander.com or write her at the following postal address:
Tamera Alexander
P.O. Box 362
Thompson’s Station, TN 37179
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Table of Contents
COVER PAGE
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER | ONE
CHAPTER | TWO
CHAPTER | THREE
CHAPTER | FOUR
CHAPTER | FIVE
CHAPTER | SIX
CHAPTER | SEVEN
CHAPTER | EIGHT
CHAPTER | NINE
CHAPTER | TEN
CHAPTER | ELEVEN
CHAPTER | TWELVE
CHAPTER | THIRTEEN
CHAPTER | FOURTEEN
CHAPTER | FIFTEEN
CHAPTER | SIXTEEN
CHAPTER | SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER | EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER | NINETEEN
CHAPTER | TWENTY
CHAPTER | TWENTY - ONE
CHAPTER | TWENTY - TWO
CHAPTER | TWENTY - THREE
CHAPTER | TWENTY - FOUR
CHAPTER | TWENTY - FIVE
CHAPTER | TWENTY - SIX
CHAPTER | TWENTY - SEVEN
CHAPTER | TWENTY - EIGHT
CHAPTER | TWENTY - NINE
CHAPTER | THIRTY
CHAPTER | THIRTY - ONE
CHAPTER | THIRTY - TWO
CHAPTER | THIRTY - THREE
CHAPTER | THIRTY - FOUR
CHAPTER | THIRTY - FIVE
CHAPTER | THIRTY - SIX
CHAPTER | THIRTY - SEVEN
CHAPTER | THIRTY - EIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Revealed Page 36
