by Donna Alward
She pulled away from his chest. Perhaps he hadn’t shocked her before but he had now. Her face had gone white as she stared up at him. What would she say if he told her the rest?
But he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. And what good would it do for her to know he wanted things that he could never have? It would only hurt them both further, because it was as plain as the nose on his face that she was developing feelings. That was his fault, and up to him to fix.
“I see.”
He swallowed, hating the dull pain in her voice. “I thought you should know so you didn’t get…” Oh, God, this was tearing him apart on top of everything else. He didn’t want to hurt her. “So you didn’t get your hopes up. About us.”
“You mean after the kisses.” She dropped her hands from his ribs as though his skin was suddenly burning her fingertips. It was what he wanted. He needed to push her away, so why did it have to hurt so much?
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. Either time. I certainly didn’t plan it. You’re a desirable woman, Emily. Don’t let that fool of an ex-husband let you think otherwise. But I’m not in the market for a wife and you should know that from the start.”
She turned her back on him, staring over the naked fields now with her shoulders pulled up. He had hurt her. He’d only hurt her more if he kept on. The sky was a dusky shade of purple and he knew they had to be going back. Off to the east, the first howl of a coyote echoed, lonely and fierce.
Emily turned back to face him and he expected to have tears to contend with. But there were none. Her face was impassive, showing neither hurt nor pleasure. She merely lifted her eyebrows the slightest bit and replied, “Then it is a good thing that I’m not looking for a husband, either.”
Emily held herself together all during the long, silent walk back to the house, all the while she called Liz to check up on Sam, and even up until she brushed her teeth and climbed under the covers of her bed. But once she put her head on the pillow, the tears came. She would not sob; she refused to let Luke know that she was crying over him. Hadn’t it only been short weeks ago she’d claimed she’d hardened her heart to love? How wrong—how arrogant—she’d been. She’d had chinks in her armor and Luke had got past each one. She hadn’t even recognized the feeling inside her as hope, but it had been there. She had envisioned getting on with her life. The possibility of more children, the big family she’d always longed for. Who was she kidding? She had pictured it happening with Luke. Maybe not right away. But somewhere in the back of her mind he’d emerged as her ideal.
She sniffled into her pillow, her heart hurting. Hadn’t she just done the same thing as before? She had given of herself. Anyone could cook and clean, but it had been more than that. She’d done so with care, trying to make things better for Luke. It had been personal from the start. She’d been looking for his approval, she realized. Not approval of the job but approval of her. She’d set herself up for this. It wasn’t all Luke’s fault.
She was conscious of him lying in the next bedroom, and struggled to keep her breathing quiet. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t face him day after day, feeling the way she did, and knowing it would never go anywhere. Oh, she couldn’t just pack up and leave in the morning. She would give it a few days. Let things resume some sort of normalcy, give Luke a chance to get his father settled. But it was time to go back to the old emergency plan. At least now she had an idea of what she could do. She was good at taking care of people and she loved children. She would go to her parents’ place, find work as a housekeeper and look into some night courses. She could take early childhood education or perhaps even a teaching assistant course—both positions that would mean she could support Sam in all the ways that mattered.
She fluffed her pillow and let resolve flood into her. Thinking ahead felt so much better than the hurt. The idea took hold and she closed her eyes, desperate to look forward, willing sleep to come.
She had simply been lonely, thinking of herself, swept away by fancy. But she couldn’t afford to think only of herself. She had Sam, and he came first. In time she’d stop caring about Luke Evans and simply thank him for showing her the way to her independence.
Sleep snuck in, merciful but bittersweet. If that were true, then why did she still feel this aching hole inside her?
CHAPTER TWELVE
JOHN EVANS WENT into the palliative care unit the following afternoon. Emily scrubbed bathrooms, brought clothes in off the line and picked Sam up from camp as Luke and his sisters spoke to the doctor and care worker. She did not offer to go with Luke and he didn’t ask her. After his revelations of the night before, it seemed like an unspoken conclusion that he would handle things on his own. It felt as though they’d said all that could be said, and yet so much seemed left unspoken.
For three days Luke worked the farm, Emily fulfilled her housekeeping duties and Sam finished camp and played with Homer in the hot July evenings.
Each day tore into Emily’s heart a little more. She saw Luke struggling with emotions, the wear and tear showing in the lines on his face and the weary set to his shoulders, though he never complained. He never talked to her about it either, not after that last night when he’d been so open and honest and sharing. It was, she realized, all she was going to get from him. Whatever had been between them—for his part—had run its course. It wasn’t the same for her. Each bit of distance between them cut a little deeper. She was surer than ever that she had to go. It hurt too much to stay.
She waited until Sam was in bed one night before giving Luke her notice.
“Luke?”
He looked up from the magazine he was reading. A summer shower was falling and he’d turned on the lamp behind him, casting the room in a warm glow. It was so cozy here. So…right. But Luke didn’t love her, and she couldn’t survive staying without it. She wanted more. She needed more, deserved more…and so did Sam. If nothing else, Luke’s turning her away had made her realize that she was the marrying kind. Even after the disaster of her first marriage, she still believed in it. Still believed in two people making that commitment to each other. She knew now that her words to the contrary had only been a way to cover up the pain of failing the first time.
And she was not the one who had given up. She wasn’t the one who had walked away. No, it was all or nothing with her, even now. And she was asking more than Luke could give. No, it was time to cut her losses. Moving forward would be best for her and best for Sam.
“This isn’t going to work. I know I should give you more notice, but…” she swallowed and gathered her strength, forcing out the next words. “Sam and I are going to leave tomorrow. We’re going to my mom and dad’s in Regina.”
Luke’s face showed nothing, until she looked into his eyes. Steely blue, they met her gaze, and there was surprise and perhaps regret. But whatever his feelings, he shuttered them away again as he folded the cover back over the magazine and put it down. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
For the briefest of moments, her heart surged, but the flare quickly died. He’d expected this. And there was nothing in either his words or his expression to tell her he was going to ask her to change her mind.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for us.” Oh, how awful that sounded. She pushed forward. “Working for you made me see that I’m good at this. I was looking for an office job and overlooked the job I’ve been doing for years. What you said about school…I’m going to look into childhood education. I love children and I think I’d be good at it.”
And if that meant surrounding herself with the children of others rather than her own, that was okay. She’d do the best she could and she would provide a good life for her son.
“You’ll be wonderful at it, Emily.” He offered her an encouraging smile. “You’re a wonderful mother. Kind and patient and firm.”
The words were the right ones, but the polite, friendly tone cut into her.
“Thank you.” She lifted her chin. “I realized I was overlooking my skills rather than c
apitalizing on them.”
His gaze settled on her warmly. “You’ve made such a difference here. Not just with what you do, but with your kindness and generosity.”
Her breath seemed stuck in her chest. Really, this polite veneer was killing her. She wanted to demand that he fight for her. That he tell her he hadn’t meant to slam the door on them so completely. Something to let her know that he cared, that they had a chance. But he said nothing. He was as determined as ever to keep her out.
“I need to finish packing. Excuse me, Luke.”
“I’ll write you a check for your wages.”
How could she take money? It seemed to cheapen what they’d had. And yet what did they have, really? Some feelings and a few kisses. She had to take the money. Not just because she needed it, but because if she refused he would know. He’d know that this had gone way beyond a business arrangement and into deeply personal territory, and she’d been hurt and humiliated enough.
“Thank you, Luke.”
He picked up his magazine again and Emily felt her tenuously held control shatter. Without saying another word, she left the room and went upstairs to pack her suitcase.
When her footsteps sounded on the stairs, Luke dropped the magazine and ran a rough hand over his face. Keeping up the pretense just now had damn near killed him. The last few days had been hell. Not just putting Dad in the palliative care unit, but wanting, needing Emily beside him and knowing he’d been the one to turn her away. What had he expected she’d do after his cold words? He’d thanked her and then flat-out told her they had no future. She’d answered him back in kind but he’d seen the hurt behind her eyes. He never should have hired her. Never should have kissed her. Definitely never should have fallen in love with her. She made him want things he couldn’t have—the home and wife and marriage that seemed to make everything complete.
She didn’t understand why he was turning her away, or that he was doing it for her own good. And she sure as hell didn’t know what it was doing to him to let her go.
Marriage was enough of a risk, and Emily had already lost once. He couldn’t ask her to take a gamble on him when she didn’t even know the odds. And the odds had been all too clear as he watched his father slide further and further away. He could end up just like his father. Then where would Emily be? And Sam? Looking after an invalid? Making heart-breaking decisions they way he’d had to?
She didn’t know what it was like. Couldn’t know unless she’d been through it.
He’d heard her crying in her room. Quietly, but crying just the same, and it had taken every ounce of restraint not to go to her and tell her he didn’t mean it. Her leaving came as no surprise, and he had tried his best to make it easier on her. He pushed out of the chair and went to the office, digging out the checkbook and taking a pen from the holder. His hand shook as he filled out her name and the date and the pen hovered over the amount.
How could he put a price on all she’d given to him?
In the end he figured out her wage and doubled it, then ripped it out of the book and put it in an envelope, licking and sealing the flap.
He’d check her car’s oil and fluids before she left, too. He realized that he’d never made good on his promise to teach her how to do those things for herself. But he’d do them this time. Just to be sure she got to Regina okay.
And maybe one day she’d realize that letting her go was the kindest thing he could have done.
It was still raining the next morning when Emily put Sam’s suitcase in the trunk. Sam wore a sullen look. “I don’t want to leave the fun kids. I don’t even know Grandma and Grandpa. They’re old and I won’t have anyone to play with. And I was teaching Homer to roll over!”
“Sam!” Emily felt her patience thin. “Your grandparents love you. And you will make new friends.”
Sam got into the car without another word and Emily sighed, regretting the sharp tone. Inside her purse was the envelope Luke had given her with her pay inside. She couldn’t bear to open it and see the last glorious weeks reduced to a number sign. Luke stood nearby, straight and uncompromising. But when Emily slammed the trunk shut Sam opened his door and scrambled out again, running to Luke and throwing his arms around Luke’s legs.
Luke lifted him as if he weighed nothing and closed his eyes as Sam put his arms around his neck.
Emily couldn’t watch. She wasn’t the only one who had come to care for Luke. Sam idolized him, and would have followed him around as faithfully as Homer if Emily had allowed it. Luke had patiently taught Sam how to sit on a horse and the difference between garden plants, the taste of hay ready for cutting and how the cattle could tell a man when bad weather was imminent. He had so much to give and refused to give it.
“Bye, squirt. Be good for your mom, okay?”
“Okay, Luke. Bye.”
Emily vowed not to cry, but it was a struggle. She finally met Luke’s gaze and nearly crumpled at the pain in the blue depths. All he had to do was say the word and she’d stay. One word. The moment hung between them until she was sure she would break. “Goodbye, Emily.”
She hadn’t truly realized what the term stiff upper lip meant until she forced herself to keep her own from trembling. She swallowed twice before she trusted herself to say the words, “Goodbye, Luke.”
She turned to go to the driver’s-side door but he spoke again. “I checked your oil and everything last night. You should be fine now.”
Stop talking, she wanted to say. Didn’t he know each word was like the lash of a whip? “Thank you,” she murmured, her hand on the door handle. “Emily…”
His hand closed over hers on the handle. She slowly turned and his arms cinched around her.
The light rain soaked into the cotton of his shirt, releasing the scent of his morning shower and fabric softener as he cradled her against his wide chest. She clung to him, her arms looping around his ribs, holding him close. Did this mean he’d changed his mind?
All too soon he let her go and opened her door. She stepped back, her lip quivering despite her determinations. She had to face the truth. Luke’s resolve that he’d raised his family—that he didn’t want the responsibility—was stronger than any feelings he had for her. Numbly she got into the car and dropped her purse on the passenger seat while Sam sat, silent, in the back.
“Be happy,” Luke said, and shut her door.
She turned the key and the engine roared to life. She put it in gear and started down the driveway.
At the bottom she glanced in the rearview mirror. He was still standing in the same spot, his jeans and flannel shirt a contrast to the gray, dismal day. She snapped her gaze to the front and to the wipers that rhythmically swiped the rain from the windshield.
She had to stop looking back. From now on it was straight ahead.
Luke went back into the house once her car had disappeared from sight. He closed the door and the sound echoed through the hall. His footsteps seemed inordinately loud in the empty kitchen. He should go to the barn and tackle a few of the tasks he’d been saving for a rainy day. Instead he found himself wandering aimlessly from room to room, ending in the living room. A white square caught his eye and he went to the old stereo, picked up the piece of paper and stared at her elegant handwriting.
If he’d ever wondered if she could do everything, here was his answer. After all these years of the record player not working, she’d fixed it.
He carefully moved the picture frames from the top, stacking them to one side as he lifted the hinged cover. Memories hit him from all sides: being at his grandparents’ house and hearing the old albums, then his mom and dad bringing it home and putting on the Beatles and Elvis. Those LPs were still there, but Luke flipped the switch and sent the turntable spinning, placing the needle on the album already in place.
The mellow voice of Jim Reeves singing “I Love You Because” filled the room. Oh, how he’d complained as a boy when his parents had put on the old-fashioned tunes. Now he was hit with a wave of nostalgia so stron
g it almost stole his breath.
And as he listened to the lyrics, he wished he could take back the words that had sent her away.
What was done was done. He’d stayed strong despite it all, loving her too much to sentence her to a life of pain and indecision. But damn, it hurt.
It hurt more than he’d ever imagined possible.
Sam held a bouquet of black-eyed Susans, daisies and corn-flowers in his hand as Emily cut more stems for the bouquet. Her mother’s wildflower garden was a rainbow of blooms right now, and Emily snipped a few pinky-purple cosmos blossoms to add to the mix. Sam waited patiently, but as Emily handed over the last flowers, she knew. He wasn’t happy. And she knew why. Nothing had been the same since they’d left Luke’s.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” She forced a cheerful smile. “Aren’t the flowers pretty for Grandma?”
“I guess,” he muttered, looking at his feet rather than the profusion of flowers in his hand. Emily sighed. One of them pouting was enough.
“Grandma made cookies today. Why don’t we have some once these are in water?”
He shrugged. “They’re not as good as yours.”
Emily knelt beside him. “I know there have been a lot of changes lately. And I know it’s been tough, Sam. But Grandma and Grandpa are very nice to let us stay with them.”
More than nice. They’d welcomed Emily and Sam with open arms and without the criticism Emily had expected. She’d come to realize their lack of contact over the years had been partly her fault. She’d always seemed too busy to visit and hadn’t been as welcoming as she should have been. It was good to mend those fences, but it wasn’t enough. Sam wasn’t the only one discontented. Emily compared everything to Luke’s house. Not as modern or updated as her parents’ home but with far more character and redolent with decades of happy memories. The garden here was pretty, but she found herself wondering if the peas and beans were ready and if Luke was finding time to pick them. The wheat was ripening in the fields and she pictured Luke with the Orrick boys, high on a tractor amid the waving golden heads. August was waning and Labor Day approaching, and she wondered if he’d celebrate with Liz and Cait and the children. Remembering Canada Day caused such a chasm of loneliness that she caught her breath.
