Beyond This Moment

by Tamera Alexander

  A soft knock sounded on the clinic door in the next room, followed by the telling creak of rusty hinges. Dr. Brookston wouldn't knock, so she knew it wasn't him.

  "Molly?"

  James. Her stomach did a somersault. "I'm back here:" She sat up in the bed, dreading having to see him again, yet dreading the thought of not. He rounded the corner. She saw the concern lining his expression, and a portion of her apprehension fell away.

  He removed his hat and stopped just inside the doorway. "Rachel came and found me. Are you all right, Molly? Is your ... baby all right?"

  "Yes, Dr. Brookston said were both fine:" Seeing a hint of his smile helped hers along. "He asked me to stay here for the night, though, just to be sure, so I won't be able to attend the town council meeting. But I don't expect you to tell them;' she said in a rush, feeling a twinge of betrayal knowing she was still hiding something from him. "I'll do that. I could write a letter, if you want, but I think telling them in person would be best-if it can wait a day or two:"

  "I agree. And it can wait, until you're up to it:" He stared. "I'm just so thankful you're all right:" He turned his hat in his hands, worrying the rim. "I wish I could do Saturday night over again, Molly. I would change how I behaved when you told me:'

  "You were right to behave as you did. I never should have kept this from you, James:" And I wish I wasn't keeping something from you still. "Please forgive me:"

  That smile she loved tipped up one side of his mouth. "I already have. And I realize now how hard this must have been for you, all this time:'

  She bowed her head, finding the compassion in his gaze uncomfortable to sustain.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked, surprising her.

  She smiled. "Actually, I am:"

  "I'll go get you something to eat and bring it back." He turned to leave.

  "James?" She waited. "You're a very good friend;" she said softly, regretting the tremor in her voice. `And"-wherever these next weeks and months take us, before they take me home again and away from you-"I'm so grateful God brought you into my life:'

  James closed the front door noiselessly behind him and headed for the darkened kitchen, tired from the long town council meeting and from getting raked over the coals by Davenport and his pocketful of men in the group. He sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands, almost too tired to eat.

  "James, you're home. Finally." Rachel swept through the doorway, oil lamp in hand. "I've kept dinner for you:"

  He rubbed his face. "Thank you, Rachel:"

  She withdrew his plate from the oven and set it before him, then filled two glasses with tea. "How was she when you left?"

  Following her train of thought, James took her hand and offered a quick prayer of thanks, then lifted his fork. "She's doing fine. She said you stopped by while I was gone to get her dinner."

  She nodded. "She said Dr. Brookston told her everything seemed fine. That he didn't see anything alarming, which is good news:"

  "Very good news:" James took a bite of mashed potatoes, followed by meat loaf. "He wants to see her every week, looks like, just to be sure she's okay."

  Rachel said nothing for a moment, but he could feel her wheels turning.

  "Have you told her yet, James?"

  He kept eating.

  "You should, you know," she said quietly.

  He took a long swig of tea, knowing how she must feel when he gently pushed her to make things right with Daniel. "It's not that simple, Rachel:"

  "It also doesn't have to be that hard, James:"

  He ate his dinner, grateful for it but wishing he could eat it in peace.

  "May I ask you another question?" she said after a minute.

  He finished chewing. "If I say no, will it make any difference?"

  She laughed. "No:"

  "Then why are you asking me?" He cut his eyes in her direction, still a mite frustrated, but knowing she meant well.

  She laid a hand on his arm. "I know you, James. And I know how you think. You're thinking that it wouldn't be right for the sheriff of Timber Ridge to have feelings for a woman who has lied about something like this. I was just as surprised as you were when I learned about the baby today too, but-"

  "She told me about the baby Saturday night, on the sleigh ride:"

  Rachel said nothing for a moment. "So that's what's been wrong these past few days. I thought it was something related to the sheriff's office:"

  "It's that too" He sighed, staring at his plate. "But mostly, it's her.. "

  "Did the town council meeting go well?"

  He kept his smile to himself, knowing she wasn't done pressing him about Molly. She was just biding her time. "It's not a cougar that's been taking the cattle. It's rustlers, which I've suspected for a while now. They hit Paulsens' ranch last night. I informed Davenport and the men tonight at the meeting, and they're wanting to form a posse before we even have suspects'

  Davenport had also made a point of making sure that everyone knew it was Kurt who put the snake in Molly's drawer. But James kept that to himself, not wanting to add to Rachel's load. He sighed. "Another worker got hurt out at the resort too. A man fell through some loose flooring and hurt his back." He leaned forward, rolling his shoulders, working to loosen the knots. "Tolliver's building the finest resort in Colorado, while the families who are doing the work, and bearing the risks, don't even have enough to eat:"

  "It's coming at you from all directions, isn't it?" Rachel whispered. "Do the men know about Molly yet?"

  He shook his head. "She and I agreed it'd be best coming from her. I'll call a special meeting later this week, once she feels well enough. I didn't tell her this, but the chances of her keeping her job after Davenport learns she's with child are slim:"

  I think Molly knows that:' Rachel refilled his glass. "She didn't say anything outright, but I could tell she's worried about that happening:'

  "And there's nothing I can do to stop it. It's the council's decision."

  "But you have influence with those men:"

  He laughed softly. "Less every day, it feels like:"

  "No matter what happens, James ... don't you let her get back on that train:" Tender determination filled her tone. "Do you realize how rare this is, what the two of you have? When I watch the two of you together, I see-" Her eyes glistened and her smile went all wobbly. "I see Thomas and me. And I've never seen you look at another woman the way you look at her."

  He couldn't argue with anything she'd said. He'd never cared for a woman like he did Molly. And as highly as he esteemed truth and integrity, as much as he'd based his entire adult life on upholding and building on those principles, maybe what Daniel said was right. Maybe he was letting his dedication to the sheriff's office dictate his view of things more than he should.

  Despite the years having passed, James knew his father's infidelities-especially with that one woman-had greatly influenced the man he'd become. And seeing his mother shoulder the burden of his father's choices was a lesson he'd carry inside him forever.

  But he was not his father. And Molly was not that woman.

  "Mama, why are you cryin' too?"

  James turned to see Mitch standing in the doorway, his hair rumpled and crushed to one side.

  Rachel wiped her face and gave her eldest a smile. "These are just woman tears, Mitch:" She held out her arms. "They come every now and then, whether I want them to or not:"

  James watched her hug her son, knowing that statement to be true. But he also knew Rachel to be one of the strongest people he'd ever known.

  Mitch rubbed his eyes. "Kurt's cryin' still. He woke me up again:'

  Rachel patted the boy's shoulder. "I'll come see to him:"

  "Why don't you let me go?" James tucked his napkin by his plate. "I'd like to, if you don't mind:"

  Rachel hesitated, then nodded.

  James made his way down the hall, thinking back to what Rachel had said to him that afternoon when she'd first told him about the incident at school. I kn
ow it was just a prank, James. But I told Kurt you'd be ashamed of what he'd done. So please support me in this." James pushed the bedroom door open, recalling how hard Kurt had been crying at the time. And it struck him again how much his and Kurt's relationship mirrored what he'd had with his grandfather.

  He recalled the numerous times his father had meted out discipline. But it was four words from his grandfather's lips that had influenced his behavior more than anything. I'm disappointed in you. Those words had wounded him far deeper than any trip to the woodshed.

  He knelt by Kurt's bed, feeling the weight of that responsibility, the wooden planks cold and hard against his knees. "Hey, buddy," he whispered. "You still awake?"

  Sniffles and trembling covers gave him his answer, and told him more than words could have.

  He gave Kurt's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "What you did today was wrong, but you already know that. What you also need to know, Kurt, is that no matter what you did, I still love you." His throat tightened, recalling the scent of sweet cherry tobacco on his grandfather's breath. `And that love's never going away. Nothing you can do will ever change it:'

  The boy sat up and grabbed him around the neck. "I'm sorry, Uncle James. Don't be disappointed in me no more:"

  James held him close, and heard a creak behind him. He turned to see Rachel and Mitch standing in the doorway.

  He stayed with Kurt until the boy fell asleep; then he rose, knees stiff, and went to his bedroom. He lit the lamp and sank down on the edge of his bed, pulling the tattered envelope from his vest pocket. He slid the single sheet of paper from within, already knowing each word but liking the fancy way Molly made her letters.

  Dear James,

  Thank you for seeing me home last night. You've made me feel so welcome since I came to Timber Ridge, and I appreciate the support and encouragement you've given me. I count your friendship among the biggest blessings in my life and look forward to working with you in the future.

  Yours most amiably,

  Molly Whitcomb

  P.S. Whenever I see a sugar stick, I think of you.

  Yours most amiably. He ran a finger over that phrase, recalling the kiss they'd shared. There'd been nothing amiable about that. She'd seemed a touch hesitant at first, which he'd understood, with her having been married. Kissing someone other than her husband had to feel awkward, but she'd warmed up to the notion right quick. He smiled, remembering how she'd leaned into him, her arms coming around his neck.

  His gaze fell to the postscript. That's where the dichotomy had come in for him. Her note had such formality to it, such reserve and properness. All except that mention of the sugar sticks, and that's what had given him hope.

  After disrobing, he snuffed out the lamp and fell into bed, welcoming the cool of the sheets. He tugged the blanket up waist-high, his mind rabbit-trailing in a hundred different directions. But no matter how many paths his thoughts took, they kept returning to one central point. He had no doubt Molly was sorry for having deceived everyone, and that she regretted what she'd done, which made the question in his mind all the more frustrating and perplexing.

  If he was convinced of her sincerity-and he was-then why did he still get the feeling something wasn't quite right?

  A possibility gradually surfaced that made more sense than he cared to admit-perhaps his own history and the burden of carrying around, for so long, the silent stigma of his illegitimate birth drove him to question his feelings for her. And maybe that same history, somewhere way down deep, in places he didn't go very often, still drove him to question himself.

  35

  ou have placed the town council in a most difficult and embarrassing position, Dr. Whitcomb:'

  Molly stood by her chair at the table, head bowed, her face burning. Davenport's patronizing tone deepened her shame, as did the solemn stares of all the men around the table. All the men but James.

  Across the table from her, James shifted in his chair, looking as if it were all he could do to stay silent. She'd made him promise not to intervene-no matter what was said, no matter the council's decisionand she threw a brief but pleading look in his direction as a reminder of that vow.

  She'd contacted Mayor Davenport herself about scheduling a special Saturday session, not wanting to further compromise James's reputation by using him as a go-between. For the past hour, she'd waited in the hallway outside the room while these men deliberated her fate, and from the stoniness in James's gaze, she gathered the outcome was not good.

  She forced her head up. "I fully realize that, Mayor Davenport. And, please, to all of you, I want you to know how very much I regret my actions."

  The mayor leaned forward, hands clasped and expression stern. "You've heard the phrase Actions speak louder than words, Dr. Whitcomb. I believe that's written on a plaque in your classroom. Is it not?"

  "Yes, Mayor, it is. And my desire is that my actions always be consistent with my words. But ..." A bitter taste tinged her mouth. "I'm afraid they're not:"

  Davenport's glare darkened. "Which leads me to wonder, ma'am-as it does others around this table-how we can believe anything you tell us in the future?"

  Molly flinched at his well-aimed accusation. Sensing her sealed fate, she shivered where she stood. More snow had fallen during the week and bitter cold hung over the valley. She'd learned from James that another seven head of cattle had been taken from ranches. The pressure for him to find those responsible had escalated. She could see the tension in his expression even now and had felt it in his reticence with her that week.

  "Dr. Whitcomb, the council has reached our decision" Mayor Davenport's tone held mildly reined enthusiasm. "Due to your deliberate deceitfulness to this board, and to the parents and students of Timber Ridge, and due in part to your choice of questionable pursuits outside the classroom, we are mandating your immediate dismissal:"

  Hearing the words stated so boldly caused her to shudder, yet something he'd said didn't make any sense. "Questionable pursuits?" she asked softly.

  "Yes, Dr. Whitcomb. We've learned of the `tutoring' you've been undertaking with certain children in this town who are not numbered among those whom we hired you to teach. But surely you were aware of what our opinion would be on that matter."

  Wondering how they'd found out, she wished she could deny it, but she couldn't. She'd known Davenport and others wouldn't approve of her decision to teach Angelo or to share books with Elijah, but she'd done it anyway. And be it right or wrong in their eyes, she would do it again if given the chance, which only further sealed the inevitability of her fate in Timber Ridge.

  Davenport fingered his large wooden gavel. "You have two days to vacate the premises of the teacher's cabin and to remove all personal effects from the schoolhouse. Furthermore, it is our recommendation that you consider-"

  A door opened behind her, and Molly turned to see a gentleman poke his head inside. He handed an envelope to Hank Bolden, who read the front and quickly passed it across the table. "It's a telegram. For you, Mayor:"

  Mayor Davenport ripped it open, obviously bothered at the interruption.

  Molly's mind raced. Two days to vacate the cabin. Where would she live? And she had a sneaking suspicion Davenport had been about to recommend that she leave Timber Ridge, but how could she? When she still needed Dr. Brookston to care for her baby.

  Davenport's frustrated sigh drew her back. He glared at her across the table, his complexion reddening by the second. "Dr. Whitcomb, your reckless behavior has yet again placed this council-and the entire town-in a most regrettable and compromising situation:"

  From the corner of her eye, Molly saw James lean forward in his chair.

  Davenport glanced at the telegram clenched in his grip. "It would seem that a team of educators has taken great interest in the reports you've submitted on the school's recent progress:"

  Molly knew her surprise showed. She hadn't heard anything about her reports being shared outside of the town council, much less with a team of educators. "But I do
n't understand.... How did they get my-"

  "That is a moot point at this juncture, Dr. Whitcomb!" Davenport pounded the table with his fist. "The fact is, they have scheduled a trip to Timber Ridge and are coming to look at our school! And when they arrive, they're going to discover that there's not only no one to demonstrate this new teaching method of yours, but now there's no teacher!" His features twisted in anger. "Your selfish lack of concern for this town and its advancement, not to mention your lack of integrity in the application process for this job has caused-"

  "Mayor Davenport!"

  Molly startled at the uncommon harshness in Ben Mullins's voice.

  Ben wore a look of surprise, as though he too was caught off guard by his own outburst. He cleared his throat, his quiet manner returning. "I believe, sir, that you've made it clear to Dr. Whitcomb, and to all of us around this table, how difficult a situation this is. Seems to me that instead of focusing on how we got here, we'd do better to focus on how to move ahead in a way that's best for everyone involved-including the children of Timber Ridge, who should be our utmost concern:'

  Gentle reprimand framed Ben's soft voice, and Molly thought again of his and Lyda's children, and wondered what had happened to them. She waited for someone to say something, feeling as though her fate were tied to the tail end of a kite.

  As soon as the thought came, she took it back. She knew who held her fate. She had purposefully entrusted it to Him. And did so again in that moment.

  Davenport held up the telegram. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "The committee members arrive a week from Monday and are expressing an interest in learning more about these new teaching methods of yours and about the students' improved marks. They want to observe your classroom and interview you personally!" He tugged on his starched white collar, as though something were lodged in his throat. "If they like what they find, there's every chance they'll use our school as a pattern for others in this state:"

  The look in his eyes was as close to loathing as Molly could remember seeing.