by Rose Gordon
She blinked up at him. Where had that come from?“No. But I’ve only been away from mine for three days. It’s been three years since your parents died. I thought maybe you missed them.”
He reached for her hand.“I miss her,”he said as he intertwined their fingers.“This might make me a bad person, but I don’t even think about my father unless someone mentions him.”
“That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.”She squeezed his hand.“I’m sorry I missed the burial. I wanted to go, but my father wouldn’t let me.”
“I know.”
Something about his response gave her pause.“You do?”She used her free hand to block the sun.“I never understood why my father disliked your family so much.”
“Have you forgotten that my father was an impoverished drunk? He never kept his word. He never paid his debts. The only people who ever liked him were those who were around when he had enough money to buy liquor.”
She bit her lip.“You don’t have to live under his shadow forever.”
He laughed. But it wasn’t the rich chuckle she was used to. Instead, it sounded forced and hollow and bitter.“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. Have you ever tried to make a name for yourself?”She didn’t mean for that to sound as unkind as it likely did.“Joel, you’re not him. You work for your keep and you pay your debts. I’ve seen you.”
Joel gestured toward the road ahead of them.“Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, Jessie fell in step beside him.“I don’t understand why you won’t try.”
“Try what?”
“To prove to them you’re different.”
“I did. It didn’t work. To them, the sins of the father are the sins of the son.”
“No,”she said with conviction.“They’re not. You’re not him.”
“No,”he allowed.“But that doesn’t matter. No matter what I do, I’ll always be known as Duncan the Drunkard’s Dunce of a son.”
Jessie’s gut roiled. How many times she’d heard Joel referred to so unkindly she couldn’t possibly remember. He’d always pretended he couldn’t hear them or that he didn’t care. But she knew better.“Perhaps that’s why we got along so well,”Jessie mused.“We were both stuck living beneath the shadows our fathers had created.”
“Yup. But that’s enough of that. The way I see it, we have a day left with just the two of us and I, for one, would rather spend it creating new, and dare I hope enjoyable memories, rather than rehashing miserable ones from the past.”He pulled her to a stop and placed his right hand firmly on her hip.“What do you say?”
Jessie didn’t say anything. Instead, she did the unthinkable: came up on her toes and pressed her lips firmly against his.
Chapter Ten
If Joel were to die at that very second, he’d perish a happy man.
Not a satisfied man, or even a contented man, but a happy man.
Jessie’s lips against his were pure heaven. Soft and supple, warm and full, they were better than he could have ever imagined, sending his blood racing through his veins and excitement building.
And then the kiss was over.
“Sor—”
He cut off her unwarranted apology with another kiss. This time it was different. Determined. Deeper. He obviously lacked the ability to express to her how he felt about her with his words, perhaps she’d understand this. Her arms looped around his neck, her fingers sinking into his hair. Her action pushing her body just that much more against him. He nearly groaned in response. Bringing his left hand up to her cheek, he parted his lips, hoping Jessie would do the same.
She did. Not too far, but far enough he could taste inside her mouth.
“Jessie,”he panted. His eyes searched hers for some sort of answer or explanation. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what he was looking for and all too soon the moment was gone.
Blushing a deep crimson, Jessie removed her arms from around his neck.“We should probably keep walking.”
“Right,”Joel clipped, though town was the last place he wanted to go at the moment. The thick forest of trees that lined the highway held far more appeal. Repressing the thought as best he could, he picked up the reins again.
“You don’t suppose this broken axle will take you all afternoon to fix, do you?”
Joel gritted his teeth.“You’ll make your train.”
Jessie mumbled something that sounded an awfully lot like,“That’s too bad,”before tapping him on the shoulder and shouting,“I’ll race you to that big oak with the funny looking branches hanging across the road!”Then, before she’d even finished issuing her challenge, her feet started moving.
Loosening his grip on the horses’reins, Joel lurched forward and wrapped one arm around her, lifting her up off the ground.“Got ya,”
She half-giggled, half-squealed, and twisted her body around to bring her face closer to his.“I should have asked for a head start,”she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Joel slowed to a stop and lowered her to the ground“All right, Jess. I’ll give you your head start.”He grinned at her.“If you really think that will keep you safe from me.”
~*~
A thrill of excitement shot through her. Did she want to be safe from him? The memory of his strong arms wrapped around her and his kiss was still fresh on her lips. No, she didn’t want to be safe from him.
“And what if I don’t want to run from you anymore?”There, she’d laid her heart bare for him.
“Are you really running from me, if I’m chasing after you?”
Jessie’s heart slammed in her chest.“Does that mean…?”
Joel tucked the reins between his knees and used his large hands to frame her face, his eyes locked with hers.“Do you want me to catch you?”he asked raggedly.
Yes! She’d always wanted that, how unfortunate that her mouth had suddenly gone too dry for her to speak.
“Is that yer broken wagon back there?”a man called from behind them.
Jessie started and Joel turned to face the man.
“Yes, sir.”He lowered his hands from Jessie’s face, his right hand catching hers.“I think the axle is broken.”
The man in the other wagon nodded his head.“Town’s about another mile or mile and a half. I’m headed there myself and can take you to Mr. Baker’s livery if you’d like.”
Part of Jessie hoped Joel would refuse this man’s offer.
But Joel was a man and men made decisions based on logic, or so she’d been told, so she wasn’t surprised when Joel accepted the man’s offer and helped her into the wagon, tying the reins of Biscuits and Gravy so they could walk behind them.
“Name’s Beau,”the man driving the wagon said, reaching his hand out to shake Joel’s.
“Joel.”He pointed to Jessie.“Jessie.”
“Nice to meet y’all.”Beau tipped his hat to Jessie then whistled to the horses.“Where y’all heading?”
Joel and Jessie exchanged looks. Where were they heading now?
“To town,”Joel said jovially.
The other man laughed.“You sound a lot like my pa. When I was a boy, I’d wake up from a nap in the back of the wagon and ask where we were. He’d say in South Carolina. I’d ask him to be more specific so he’d tell me in the wagon. Or when I asked where we were going, he’d tell me we were going down the road.”He shook his head, a grin splitting his face.“I sure miss the old man.”
Jessie grinned, too. That’s exactly how Joel would be as a father. He’d been wrong earlier, the sins of the father were not automatically translated as sins of the son. She couldn’t imagine Joel acting anything like his father had. It wasn’t in him. Memories of him catching frogs or newts or some other slimy critter, examining it carefully and just as carefully placing it back where ever he’d found it filled her mind.
Mr. Cunningham had possessed the same stature as Joel, but his demeanor had been different. He’d bark and stomp, slam and growl. All around town he behaved this way. Everyone moved out of his wa
y when they saw him coming. He made some of the same sort of sarcastic statements Joel did, but Joel’s tone was lighter and his eyes softer. Joel meant them only to be humorous, Mr. Cunningham was being cruel. There was a difference. Yes, Joel would be a wonderful husband and father.
Next to her the two men chatted. She picked up little pieces here and there: Beau was forty-five and on his way to town to buy materials for a fence he was mending. He’d always lived in this part of the state and refused to leave his family home just to please a woman. Apparently, he still lived with his mother and two of his younger brothers. Jessie could understand how this would deter a woman from Charleston, or even just the small town they were headed to, from wanting to marry him. Women didn’t mind living near their husband’s family, but living with them? No, thank you. Her home would never truly be hers.
She cocked her head to the side. What about Joel’s house? He’d inherited it when his parents had died in their carriage accident three years ago. Rumors around Lancefield swirled that Joel had to pay some money to several people in town to clear up all the debt attached to the house. Did that mean he was attached to it? She shivered. She surely hoped not. She could certainly live there if he wanted them to, but only if he’d let her make it her own. The first thing that would have to go is his father’s room. She shivered again. She’d only wandered in there once when looking for Joel during a game of hide-and-seek. The room was as dark as the night with no candles or lamps anywhere. The dark curtains were drawn, blocking out any sunshine the window wanted to let in. All around the room, there were piles of empty and broken bottles almost as tall as her. Well, that might be an exaggeration, but not much of one.
They never finished that game, if she recalled. Joel had seen her go in there, ran in after her, and pulled her out immediately. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable as he extracted a promise from her to never enter that room again. That was a promise she had no difficulty keeping.
Her eyes caught on Joel. He was still conversing with Beau. Something about rabbit traps-turned-human traps. Joel grimaced and muttered a curse; then yanked up his pant leg and showed Beau the wicked-looking scar that circled his knee. Though she’d seen it a thousand times, she winced. Had he not been there with her that day and pushed her aside it’d have been her ankle in that trap. She swallowed the lump in her throat, a thousand memories of their adventures rushing to the forefront of her mind: racing horses in the pasture, shelling beans on the porch, whitewashing her mother’s fence, secret fires, and even an occasional snowball fight. How could she have ever thought of leaving Williamsburg County and moving to Montana? She couldn’t. She was made for Joel, and Joel was made for her. They were a perfect fit.
“Jess?”came the concerned voice of the object of her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“We’re at Mr. Baker’s. Would you like to come with me to talk to him? Or were you planning to run off with Beau?”
She blushed and scrunched up her face.“You know darn well I’m coming with you.”She dropped her voice to a whisper.“I don’t even know him.”
Joel burst out with laughter.“What’s the difference between him and Mr. Perfect? Other than he’s here and you have to travel to the wilds to get to Mr. Perfect?”
Jessie allowed him to help her out of the wagon then shook out her skirt.“It’s a gamble, but I’d say Mr. Perfect is at least a decade younger.”
Joel’s eyes bulged.“You don’t even know how old he is?”
Jessie sent him her sweetest smile, tipped her left shoulder up then sauntered off.
Joel untied the reins for his horses and thanked Beau. Then tied the horses to a hitching post.
“You’re the very definition of unbelievable,”Joel muttered, walking up beside her.
Mr. Baker’s area, as it would be more accurately described, was a mess loosely confined within a large split-rail fence. The grass inside the yard was littered with horseshoes and rusty iron tools. Ropes of various lengths and states of repair hung from the fence posts, draped over wooden crates, or in coils and tangles on the grass.
“You here for some tea?”asked a man with a dirty, wrinkly face and wild gray hair, sitting on a stool in the middle of the yard.
“No, sir. We broke the axle on our wagon,”Joel said then went on to explain where it was broken and everything he thought he’d need.
“Sounds like you’ve had this problem before.”Mr. Baker set down his hammer and pushed to his feet, groaning as his hips and knees cracked and popped.“Since I’m up, can I get you some tea?”
“No, thank you,”Jessie said.
“Folks say it’s a mess‘roun’here, but I know where just everything is,”he said as he began walking around the yard. Each time he bent to get a better look at something or pick something up he grunted in pain while his body clicked and popped.
“Just think, your Mr. Perfect might sound just like an adding machine when he walks, too,”Joel whispered in her ear.
She playfully stepped on his boot.
“Thank you. I didn’t think I’d scuffed them up enough already.”He looked down at his boot and pushed his bottom lip out.“Now, they’re perfect.”
Jessie heaved an exaggerated sigh.“Now, who’s trying to be Mr. Perfect?”
“I hate to tell you this, but I only said my boots are perfect. I’m far from it.”
“That’s all right, I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you were perfect.”Nor would she want him without all his imperfections.
“Careful, ma’am,”Mr. Baker said from where he was bent over a small mound of rusty tools.“You tell your man you’re willing to accept anything less than perfection and ye might get a yard full of rust and rats like Mrs. Baker.”Crack, crack, POP! Mr. Baker straightened a little then scowled and tossed the long tool in his hand back down onto the pile with a clank.“Just after we married, Mrs. Baker tol’me I couldn’t do anything she wouldn’t like.”He cackled.“Had she lived, she’d have regretted that statement.”
Jessie looked to Joel. He shrugged then turned his eyes back to where Mr. Baker was looking through his tools.“Can I help you, sir?”
“No, no.”Mr. Baker waved a gnarled hand though the air.“You’re paying a premium price. I’ll do all the looking. Now, if only I could find where I put that wrench…”
“Isn’t that a wrench hanging out of his pocket?”Jessie whispered to Joel.
“Yes.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Baker—”
“Not now, Molly,”Mr. Baker said, not looking up from the tool in his hand.“I’m helping this man get tools for his wagon. Bring them out some tea, would you? They want some of your tea.”
Jessie knit her brows.“Mr. Baker?”
“Molly, I said I’m helping someone right now,”he snapped.“I’ll tend to your needs later.”
Beside her, Joel was chuckling. Jessie swatted him on the shoulder. It was becoming quite clear the man was confused about something.
“A’ight, Ben. Here’s all ya need to patch that hole in your roof,”Mr. Baker said, walking over to them, his hands full of heaven only knew what.
Jessie eyed the pile of dirty odds and ends he was thrusting toward Joel.“Patch the—”
“You wouldn’t happen to know,”Joel interrupted, taking the small pile of junk and material from Mr. Baker,“if I’d have enough material left over to fix my wagon axle, too?”
Mr. Baker twisted his lips then cluckedhis tongue.“I think so.”He lifted an arthritic finger.“But you’ll need a wrench. And I have one—”he patted his chest, frowning, then lowered his hand to his hip pocket, then grinned a wide, toothless smile.“Here.”
Jessie took the tool from the man.
“What about some pitch, Mr. Baker?”
“Yeah, I got some.”Mr. Baker hobbled off toward his barn and came back a moment later carrying a piece of wood in one hand and a small bucket of what she could only hope was pitch. He handed them to Joel.“Extra wood might help with that axle. Say, would you two like some
of Molly’s tea? Best tea in the county.”
“No, thank you.”Joel repositioned the items in his hands.“Thank you for the materials. How much do I owe you?”
“Nuttin’.”He winked at Jessie.“You two enjoy you’s honeymoon.”
Jessie wondered if Joel’s honest bone would present itself and correct the man.
It did not.
~*~
“What has you smiling like a miser poring over his treasured coins?”Joel asked. He’d swear she’d been grinning like a jackal on the hunt for the last ten minutes.
“You and Mr. Baker.”
That’s what he’d assumed. Age had not been kind to the man.“You expected me to correct him, didn’t you?”When she nodded, he added,“I don’t think it would have been any use. It might have made him more confused. Or worse, angry.”
“Do you think you have all that you’ll need to fix the axle?”
“Yup.”He bobbed his head.“And patch a roof.”
“Axle first.”Instinctively, she put her arm around his waist.“You can patch your roof when we get home.”
Home. Something tightened in his chest. In the past three years he’d patched more than just the roof on his house. Patching holes in walls, replacing rotten floorboards and painting had been his life’s work for the past three years. If he’d been really determined he could have borrowed some money and had everything repaired in a year’s time. But something had kept him from hurrying. Jessie. When he finished the repairs he planned to sell the nightmare and never look back.
But what about Jessie…
If she moved to Montana, he’d be ready to sell that confounded house and all of its memories as soon as he got back.
But if she returned to Williamsburg County with him would she want to live there? A bitter taste filled his mouth. He didn’t think he could do that. For as much as he loved the country landscape, he didn’t think it was possible for him to live out the rest of his natural life in such close proximity to Mr. Wilcox. The man had left him alone for the majority of the last five years. Joel couldn’t count on such good fortune to follow him if he married Jessie. What a ridiculous thought. There wasn’t even a chance of it.
