“Levi!”
Maira’s chide caused Levi to duck his head. “You said he was.”
“I said I thought he was.”
Levi turned into her skirts. “Don’t let him leave, Mama.”
Ana squeezed around Maira, her face hot with a blush as she glanced at Slim, then knelt beside Levi and whispered something in his ear.
“Outside?” Levi asked.
“Can’t have a picnic inside.” Ana smiled.
Frank handed over two plates to Slim, with Ana taking two cups of water. Levi stopped in the doorway and looked from his mother to Tanner before he followed Ana and Slim out the side door.
Before Tanner realized what was happening, he caught on to the fact that he was alone in the kitchen with Maira. And Frank.
He swallowed hard. “I guess I’d best be leaving, too.”
Maira searched his face, her gaze skimming over his cheeks, his hair, his jaw. She nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
His breath caught as she turned from him, settling herself in her chair, accepting the plate Frank put in front of her. She bowed her head, raised her fork to her lips, all without acknowledging him. His breath came fast. He wanted to make good on his words, but he couldn’t move. He was a coward. Afraid to stay, scared to leave. All because he’d never known, never allowed himself to know, exactly what Maira’s presence had taught him. She loved him, and though he didn’t know much about loving a woman, he thought his feelings might match hers.
“I’ll. . .” He flinched at the sound of his own voice, paused, and tried to collect his thoughts. “I’ll be out on the porch when you’re done with supper.”
❧
Roast beef never tasted quite so good as that last bite Maira chewed. She could see Tanner waiting for her, leaning on the railing as he always did. He hadn’t left, and her heart soared with the hope of his waiting figure.
“It’s a good sign that he’s waiting,” Frank started.
“I know,” she assured the man as she handed him her plate. “Thank you, Frank. Pray for me.”
The man’s smile stretched wide. “I’ll be doing just that.”
When she stepped out onto the porch, the night air swirled around her, carrying on it the sound of Slim and Ana’s conversation. She couldn’t see them but suspected they were just around the corner, enjoying the rising moon and peaceful sound of the crickets. Tanner turned to face her as she moved farther out onto the porch, closer to him. As close as she dared. Why had she been so reluctant to see him as more than a passing cowboy who’d rescued her son? Her love for him had crept up on her, heightened each time he’d done a kindness to her or Frank or Levi, with no hope of repayment. Even if his motives had started out untrue, he had proven himself to her time and again. People had failed her in the past, and he might fail her even now, but God would be her rock.
“You. . .”
The way he looked at her made her mouth go dry. Devotion spilled from his gaze. Yet there was that knot there. She dared to reach out and splay her hand against his chest. “Why is it so hard for you to accept love?”
All the affection seeped from his gaze. He stared down at his boots, and she could feel the twang of his heart, like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil.
“Tanner?”
“Getting too close is like being near a fire.” His jaw worked, and when he lifted his eyes, she saw his torment. “I’ve never put much stock in feelings.”
“I won’t burn you.”
Tanner’s hand crept upward, covered hers. When he lifted his gaze to hers, pain peeled from him in waves. “I might fail you.”
His fear became clear to her then. “You didn’t fail your mother, Tanner. Or anyone else.” His breath came, ragged. He turned his face away, but she caught his chin, framed his cheeks in her hands. “Do you hear me?”
“If I hadn’t left. . .”
“You did what you thought right at the time. I think the question now is, can you forgive yourself? Your mother would want you to be happy and whole, not running from people because. . .” She didn’t quite understand his need to run. But he did. Maybe the suggestion of her words would be enough for him to fill in the blank.
“I want to stay.”
His simple statement spilled through her. “I want you to stay. I love you, Tanner. I love who you are, the heart for people that you have.”
He drew her close, his hand splayed on her back. She pulled his head down to her shoulder and held him there, swaying with him in her arms, as she had once rocked Levi.
❧
The Indian woman’s blood spilled over his lap once again, accusing. He saw his mother’s sad face, the disappointment she must have felt in him when he left. All of it soared into his mind with Maira’s quiet question. Could he forgive himself? He’d done his best. Endured what he could endure with his stepfather. Tried to protect as best he could the vulnerable Indians. He’d had no way of knowing what the leader would do. No way of foreseeing his stepfather’s abandonment. He should have gone back sooner, sure, but he hadn’t. He would learn from the mistake, hold those he loved closer and be more aware.
He’d once heard a man talking of God’s forgiveness. Please, God, I need it so bad. The pressure in his chest eased, like a fist finally relaxed. He could commit to Maira. To Levi and the Rocking J. He would enjoy the closeness, Maira’s gentleness, and coming home to her at the end of a long day repairing fence. He’d tortured himself long enough, and Maira was right: His mother would want him to be happy.
When he raised his head and stared down into Maira’s upturned face, he measured the consequence of what he was going to do next. He held her shoulders, bent his head, searched her eyes, wide now with expectation. When his lips touched hers, he felt like a man finding color in the bend of a creek bed. The moment was pure gold. No streaks of other sediment, just beauty and tenderness. He breathed in the scent of her hair, kissed her forehead, tilted her chin for another kiss on her lips. And then he held her, unsure if his sense of balance was off because of her or him or the hope that came on the wings of the realization that he was in love. This was love.
He pulled back. “Maira, I love you.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded. “I figured that out.”
About the Author
S. Dionne Moore is a multi-published author who makes her home in Pennsylvania with her husband of twenty-one yearsand her daughter. You can visit her at www.sdionnemoore.com.
Dedication
To everybody at Barbour who has worked so hard to make my manuscripts shine and answered my endless questions: JoAnne, Linda, Laura, Ashley, Becky. . . Thank you all!
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
S. Dionne Moore
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
Valley of the Heart Page 16
