"It won't work," he told her.
"Why not?" She went to him, wrapping her arms around his middle.
"Because I was sent here to get you married. Once you are, I'll disappear."
"You don’t know that for sure."
"Yeah. I do." He felt the truth of it clean down to his bones.
"Then," she countered quickly," if I never marry, you could stay."
"Rachel… "
"No." Stubbornly, she shook her head, then suddenly looked up and asked, "Where’s that gold coin you have?"
Puzzled, he reached into his pocket for the last coin. She grabbed it. "I'll just wish it so. It's magic, Jackson. We can be together."
He pulled the coin from her hand and held it tight in a closed fist. "Rachel, stop. This isn't going to change anything." Sadly, he smiled down at her. "Magic can’t help you and me. It's too late for us. It always was."
Her breath caught as she fell against him. His arms closed around her, and he rested his chin on top of her head. The sound of her tears tore at his insides. He felt each tremor as it rippled through her slender body. Sighing, he told himself that it would have been better for her if he had never been sent to her so many years before.
But then he would have gone through eternity an empty man. Knowing Rachel, loving her, was the only worthwhile thing in his whole miserable existence.
Closing his eyes, he whispered soothing words as his hands stroked up and down her back. The coin he still held tingled with subtle warmth.
When her tears subsided, he looked down at her and waited for her to meet his gaze. "I probably shouldn’t say anything more," he said softly. "Guess it's really too late for this, too. But I want you to know."
"What is it?"
His gaze moved over her features slowly, lovingly. Her lovely blue eyes were awash with tears and her bottom lip continued to quiver despite her obvious efforts at control. She had never looked more beautiful, and his silent heart ached.
"I love you," he whispered, in awe of what he had found with her.
She blinked back another surge of tears and fought to smile at him. "I know that."
"I'm glad. It means a lot to me to get to say those words." He bent to kiss her forehead and paused before adding, "I’ve never said them before. Not to anyone."
She bit into her bottom lip, but still managed to keep that tiny smile on her face. "Jackson," she whispered. "What are we going to do?"
"Ah Rachel," he said with a sigh. "There's nothing we can do, honey. I just wish we were back at your house. In bed. Happy, like we were last night."
The coin in his hand began to hum and burn… His eyes widened.
"Shit!"
A moment later, they lay naked, entwined together in Rachel's bed.
And Jackson's last coin was gone.
Chapter Twenty
"Maybe you should take back the coin you gave me for safekeeping," Rachel said as she watched Jackson getting dressed.
"No." He turned to face her.
His fingers did up the buttons on his dark blue shirt, but she wanted to tell him to stop. To come back to bed. With her.
"I want you to keep that coin," he said, stuffing the tails of his shirt into his pants. "When I'm gone, if Lynch is still around, I want to make damn sure you have a way to protect yourself if you have to."
She heard everything he said, but her mind seemed to snatch at one particular phrase. "What do you mean 'if Lynch is still around?'"
He shifted his gaze from hers, then sat down on the bed to pull his boots on. "I didn't mean anything."
Rachel tucked the sheet around her and scooted to the edge of her bed. The bed she would never be able to sleep in again without remembering, these two nights with Jackson.
"Yes, you did," she said and bent to one side until he was forced to look at her. "You’re planning something."
"Leave it alone, Rachel."
"I won’t. You heard Lesley. Is taking revenge on Noble Lynch worth damning yourself for eternity?"
His eyes met hers briefly, hauntingly. "Revenge is all I've got left."
Rachel's heart ached for him. For them. But she wasn't as willing to give up hope as he seemed to be. "Jackson, we could still find a way."
"Quit torturing yourself, Rachel." He stood up and looked down at her. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, his green eyes shone with an emotion that she couldn't quite identify. "Quit torturing both of us."
The night was over. The hours granted them by the golden coin had come to an end. Only a short time ago, they'd been wrapped together in a cocoon of love, separate from the world, belonging only to each other. Now, Rachel looked at him and knew that in his mind, their brief idyll was finished. He was already distancing himself from her. Pulling back to make their final parting less painful.
She hugged the sheet to her and glanced out the window, dismayed to find the first streaks of dawn blushing the sky.
Jackson dropped to one knee in front of her and took both of her hands in his. "Whatever else happens, I want you to know, it's all right not to get married, Rachel."
"What?"
"You don’t want to marry anybody," he said as he ducked his head. And when he looked up again, a wry smile touched his face. "And I’ve got to say, I don’t really care for the idea myself."
"But what about you?" she asked, her fingers tightening around his. "If I don’t marry, you'll go back to that saloon. You might be there forever."
"What happens to me is not important." He stared into her eyes. "I had my chance at life. I fouled it up. But I won’t throw your life away just to save my miserable soul."
"Jackson —"
"The way I see it," he went on, smoothly cutting her off, "I'll probably get to stick around here for the next four weeks. They’ll expect me to keep trying to get you hitched." Releasing her hands, he stood up. "Then I'll be gone, and you can go back to the way things were."
She came up onto her knees and leaned into him, wrapping her arms about his neck. Laying her head against his chest, she listened for a heartbeat that wasn't there.
"Nothing will ever be the same again," she whispered.
"For me, either." He dipped his head and kissed her shoulder. Smoothing his hands up and down her bare back one last time, he said. "Who knows, though? Maybe we’ll see each other again, sometime. Somewhere."
Her breath caught on a choked sob as he stepped back from her, turning his face away.
"I'm going down to the new house. I want to see how much work I can get out of Sam in the next few weeks."
"Jackson?"
He stopped at the door and looked back at her.
"There's still a chance I might be pregnant." Please God, she added silently.
A wistful smile crossed his face briefly, then he left the room, closing the door gently behind him. Two weeks gone.
And two weeks left.
The four weeks Lesley had promised Jackson were nearly finished. She couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
#
Rachel tapped her foot against the dirt as she glanced over her shoulder quickly at the bustle of people on Main Street. She shouldn't have come in broad daylight. She should have sent Noble a message, asking him to come to her. Then, at least, she wouldn't feel as if half the town were watching her.
But she hadn’t wanted to risk Jackson coming back from the new house early. She didn’t want him to know about her plan until it was too late for him to do anything to stop her.
"What's taking that man so long?" she muttered under her breath. A wagon creaked and rolled along the street, and she stepped up onto the boardwalk to get out of the way. Clouds of dust rose up, swirled over her, then settled back down again.
Rachel coughed, waved one hand in front of her face, then smoothed the front of her deep rose-colored dress. She was doing the right thing, she told herself for the twentieth time. The only thing she could do to protect Jackson against himself.
Tossing a quick glance at the saloon in front of h
er, she remembered all the nights Jackson had spent inside that building lately. It was as if he were silently daring the gambler to challenge him.
She reached up and rubbed her eyes tiredly. The argument she’d had with Jackson only the night before rang in her ears again.
"Leave Lynch alone," she had pleaded with him.
"Noble Lynch is my problem, Rachel. I'll handle him my way."
"Despite Lesley’s warning?" She had moved toward him, but he stepped back, out of her reach. As he had ever since that last lovely night they’d spent in each other's arms.
"What happens to me doesn’t matter now," he had told her just before storming out of the Mercantile toward the saloon.
She knew what he meant. Since she wouldn’t marry without love, he would be trapped in The Black Hound saloon. He wanted her happiness at any cost, but at the same time, he no longer worried about the welfare of his soul. To Jackson, anything would be preferable to an eternity spent in that saloon.
Even Hell.
"I won’t let you do it, Jackson," she whispered and didn't notice the startled look a passing stranger gave her. "I won't let you throw away your chance at Heaven."
A low rumble of .thunder rolled across the sky, and she shivered.
"Morning, Rachel," Sally called.
She jumped and half turned to look at her friend, standing in the open doorway of the laundry. Blast it, she thought. She should have waited for Noble somewhere else. Somewhere away from prying eyes and well meaning friends. "Hello, Sally."
"What are you all dressed up for?"
"How's Mike?" she countered, trying to avoid Sally's question altogether.
The other woman grinned. "I'm pleased to say that the man isn’t nearly as dirty as I thought he was. Now that I’ve promised to marry him, you’d be surprised how clean he can stay."
"I'm glad for you," Rachel said. She was glad. For Sally. Hester. Mavis. Glad for all of them.
Terrified for herself.
"Rachel?" Sally took a step closer. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." At least, she would be once her task was completed and Jackson was on his way to whatever reward awaited him.
"Miss Rachel?"
She turned toward the saloon and looked at the short, round man she’d sent inside with her message to Lynch. "Yes?"
"Noble says he's proud to talk to ya." His bald head bobbed like a cork on a string. "He'll be along directly."
"Thank you," she whispered.
As the man scuttled back into the dark interior of the saloon, Sally moved up behind her.
"Noble Lynch?" she asked. "What do you want with him?"
"I can’t talk now, Sally." Rachel threw her a quick look.
"I’ll explain everything later."
"Explain what?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly. "Rachel, what's going on?"
Noble stepped out of the saloon, a welcoming smile on his lips. He wore a finely cut gray suit over a crisp white shirt. His black string tie was precisely knotted, his graying hair trimmed neatly, and the hat he carried, dust free.
Rachel inhaled deeply. Handsome, well mannered, and a cold killer. She shuddered and told herself to avoid looking into his eyes. This was going to be hard enough as it was.
"Rachel, what a surprise," he said as he came forward one hand outstretched.
"A pleasant one, I hope," she answered and took the hand he offered.
"Undeniably."
Plastering a smile onto her face, she said in a voice that was none too steady, "If you have the time, I'd like to speak with you about something important."
"Rachel…" her friend cut in.
Noble flicked a disinterested glance at the laundress.
"Sally, I'll see you later, all right?" Rachel turned and looked at her friend for a long moment.
Sally's worried gaze shot from Rachel to Noble and back again. Her lips thinned in displeasure as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I’ll be right here," she finally said with a stabbing glare at the gambler. "Waiting."
Rachel’s eyes slid shut momentarily in relief. "Thanks."
"Shall we go somewhere more… private?" the gambler asked solicitously.
"Yes," Rachel agreed. "That would probably be best."
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, set his hat on his head, then escorted her down the boardwalk, past the saloon.
Uneasily, Sally watched them go. In a few short minutes, they had reached the end of the boardwalk and had disappeared into the crowd.
Something was wrong.
Normally, Rachel would no more seek out Noble Lynch than she would caper down Main Street in her bloomers. A twist of worry gripped her.
She had to find Jackson.
"Mornin', Sally me love !"
Spinning around, she grinned. Her big Irishman was just swinging down off his stallion.
Surely it was a sign.
"O’Hara," she yelled as she ran to him, "don’t get off that horse!"
#
Jackson stepped back, giving the newly installed bannister a careful look. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the newel post and gave it a shake.
"Solid as stone," Sam crowed from behind him.
A flush of pleasure rose up inside him. Damn, it felt good building something strong. Permanent. His practiced eye followed the line of the oak bannister to the second story where Rachel’s bedroom would be.
She would be living here long after he was gone. A good, well built house was the last gift he could give her. Wherever he ended up, he would at least know that some part of him remained behind. With her.
"I tell you, Jackson," Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I wish you'd think about my business idea. We could be rich men, my friend."
Indeed, they probably could have been.
He shook his head, picked up a hammer and moved across the completely enclosed room to work on the mantle above the stone fireplace. "Sorry Sam," he said quietly. "But I'll be moving on in a couple of weeks."
"You’re crazy, Jackson."
"Huh?" He moved a level from one end of the mantle to the other, checking the bubble in the glass. "Just because I won’t go into business with you?"
"Hell no. For walking away from Rachel."
"It's better for her if I leave," he said quietly.
"That's foolishness. She loves you. And you love her."
Jackson shot his friend a glare. "You don’t know what's going on, Sam. So back off."
The other man looked as though he might argue with him, but a shout from outside distracted both of them.
"Jackson !"
The sound of a horse's hooves, thundering along the drive, brought him running to the front door in time to see Mike O'Hara swing Sally to the ground. The woman’s feet had barely touched the dirt before she was sprinting for the house.
Fear charged through him, slashing at his insides. "What's wrong?" Jackson jumped down the three steps from the porch and grabbed her shoulders. "Is it Rachel? Is she hurt? Dammit Sally, talk !"
She yanked free of him and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Rachel went to see Noble Lynch. At the saloon. She sent him some kind of message and then she went off with him." Sally shook her head and looked up into cold green eyes. "She didn't look right. Jackson. She looked… scared."
He started for Mike's horse. As the bigger man stepped down, Jackson snatched at the reins. "I'll need to borrow your animal, Mike."
"Jackson," Sally shouted as he wheeled the stallion around and spurred it into a gallop, "they walked off toward the pines behind the school!"
His reply, if there was one, was lost in a slap of thunder.
#
"Surely you'd rather finish our discussion back at the Mercantile," Noble said, yanking his hat off before the wind could steal it. "Get out of this storm?"
"No." Rachel shook her head firmly. "I think we‘ve said it all, anyway. If you agree, we can meet at the church in an hour."
Noble smiled, and she saw her own reflection
in the dark jet of his eyes. It was no consolation to know she looked as terrible as she felt.
"Of course I agree, my dear," the gambler said, lifting one of her hands to his lips. Rachel forced herself to hold still. "I can't tell you how honored I am that you have come to me like this. It's more than I ever dared hope for."
She nodded stiffly, like a puppet with one broken string.
It was settled. In one hour, she would meet Noble at the church and marry him.
By the time Jackson returned from work, it would be over. He wouldn’t be able to stop her. Of course, he would be furious, but she was willing to face that. In fact, she was willing to do anything to keep him from spending eternity as he had the last fifteen years.
By marrying Noble Lynch, she could save Jackson from his own need for revenge. He wouldn’t kill her husband — as much as he might want to. He loved her too much to deny her the chance of having those four children. Even if their father was Noble Lynch.
She shuddered, and her stomach lurched as she realized for the one hundredth time that Jackson’s love for her gave her the one chance she had to save his soul.
"Shall I speak to the minister?" Noble asked. "Make the arrangements?"
"No thank you," she said above the howling wind. "I'll do that and meet you there as planned." She needed some time by herself. Time to get used to the idea of being married to a man like Lynch.
The gambler swallowed back a shout of triumph and called on his best manners. They weren't married yet; she might still change her mind. And he wasn't willing to risk her backing out. Surprising as her proposal had been, he was no fool. A rich, lonely wife with a profitable business besides was not a gift horse to be ignored.
"At least allow me to escort you home." he insisted, taking her arm firmly.
Thunder roared, lightning flashed across the dark morning sky. Trees bent low as if in prayer, and Rachel’s dress snapped around her legs like a hungry dog.
Jackson rode like a madman, skirting Main Street in favor of avoiding the crowds that might have slowed him down. Wind pulled at him. Thunder shouted overhead, and each bolt of lightning earned a screech of terror from the horse beneath him.
Still Close to Heaven Page 25
