Threads of Love

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Then all at once, she recalled another time in her life when she enjoyed being close to Jake . . .

  Sinful! Emily put a name to her response to him as she touched the necklace. “But perhaps I’m not worthy to wear such a treasure.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course you’re worthy.” He grunted out a laugh that held a note of disbelief. But it soon faded into the night air, already filled with chortles, music, and singing, both human and spring peepers alike.

  “Emily, I got your letters, and I swear I meant to reply.”

  She felt cemented in place. The warmth she felt before turned to stone.

  “Life handed me a lot of . . . distractions, and I never seemed to get the chance to sit down long enough to write back.”

  “I understand.” Emily knew what it felt like to be overwhelmed with obligations. “Still, it wouldn’t have taken but a few moments, Jake.” She kept her voice soft and low. “You could have written a few simple words in reply to let me know you didn’t think badly of me.”

  “I never thought badly of you, Em. Never did and never will.” He gently gripped her upper arms. “We were young . . . ”

  “But I knew that what we were doing was wrong. I just couldn’t seem to say no to you.” She almost choked on her confession, feeling mortified that she’d actually put a voice to the words that had haunted her for ten long years.

  “I’m flattered, but please don’t blame yourself. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like I did.”

  Emily pulled away.

  “The whole thing was both my idea and my fault. I was older.” Jake’s tone grew gently husky with obvious sincerity. “I’m sorry, Em.”

  She accepted his apology with a succession of quick nods, but stared off in the distance at nothing in particular. Tears blurred her vision.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me—and yourself too.” Jake reached across the space between them and briefly touched the silver cross which now rested at Emily’s neckline. “Maybe this necklace can remind you that if the Savior of the world can forgive us, we can forgive ourselves . . . and others.” He turned and leaned his forearms on the fence. “Did you ask Him to forgive you?”

  “Of course I did.” What a question!

  He faced her again. “Then trust that the work is done, Em. All you have to do is believe. Right?”

  Emily blinked. How could it be that simple?

  “How does that verse go? ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ Isn’t that it?”

  “I believe it is.” Emily read the Scriptures on a frequent basis.

  And obviously so did Jake.

  Beneath the moon’s glow she regarded the good deputy in a brand-new light. And then she allowed the truth of what he’d just said to crack the ten-year-long stronghold.

  Several minutes ticked by and Jake turned, leaning his back against the fence again. He glanced her way, and Emily found the confidence to meet his gaze. She smiled. Amazement replaced her guilt and shame. When Jake spoke God’s Word to her, it was as if the barred door of her soul became unlocked. All she had to do was walk out of her inner prison cell.

  “Thank you, Jake. I needed that reminder, and . . . I needed it from you.”

  “Glad I could help. Sorry it took so long.”

  Emily rolled a shoulder. “I only wish you hadn’t told all the other boys in your Sunday school class about it. The truth became vicious lies and suddenly I was no better than Mary Magdalene before she met Jesus.”

  Jake replied with a throaty groan.

  “The other girls weren’t allowed to play with me. Thank goodness Iris came along, or I might still be without a friend.”

  “Emily—”

  “And I think every boy in my class teased and taunted me for a year after you left.”

  “I didn’t tell another single soul about kissing you.”

  Emily felt like socking him. “Don’t you dare lie to me now, Jake Edgerton.”

  “I swear, Em. I never breathed a word.”

  She felt stunned. If it wasn’t Jake . . . “Who else would know such a thing? We were alone.”

  “I thought so too.” He paused, seeming to think it over. “Well, it’s over now, right? No sense dredging it all up again just to find out who might have spied on two unsuspecting kids.”

  “Good point.” Still it troubled her that an unknown third party had glimpsed their intimate scene, one that belonged to courting or betrothed couples, not children.

  She brought her hand up to the silver cross necklace. “Anyway, all is forgiven.”

  “I’m glad, Em. Right now I could use some friends.”

  “In that case, Jake—” Emily decided he’d suffered too, losing his parents the way he had and now his grandfather too. “—consider me your friend.”

  He stuck out his right hand. “Friends it is.”

  Emily slipped her palm into his. “Friends.”

  CHAPTER 7

  THE NEXT MORNING Jake awoke, stretched, and grinned as recollections of the night before flashed through his mind. Glory, but those two young ladies amused him! He’d walked Emily and her friend Miss Hopper home from the dance last night, and they sang most of the way to the boardinghouse.

  After the ball is o-ver,

  After the break of morn.

  After the dancers leaving;

  After the stars are gone.

  Many a heart is aching,

  If you could read them all;

  Many the hopes that have vanished,

  After the ball.

  Jake’s smile faded when he remembered Emily’s admission that the song caused her to feel glum. Miss Hopper had quickly changed the subject, and she and Em chattered the rest of the way home.

  Jake rested his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Andy Anderson never did ask Em to dance. His loss.

  Inhaling deeply, Jake let the breath out slowly. He felt a powerful attraction to Miss Emily Sundberg, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Emily had sensed something special between them too. What a relief to know she didn’t hate him or hold the past against him any longer.

  But Emily had her heart set on Andy, and she wasn’t likely to admit feeling anything for Jake anytime soon.

  And what would happen if she did acknowledge there was still something between them after all these long years? Nothing could come of it. His life, after all, was in Montana. Not Manitowoc.

  Jake flung off the bedcovers, washed, and dressed. Glancing at Granddad’s pocket watch, he realized he was getting a later-than-usual start. But that was all right. He didn’t have chores to do, and the marshal or some county sheriff didn’t require his assistance. Jake felt more relaxed than he’d been in a long, long while.

  Jake read through a couple of pages of his Bible, cogitating a while afterward. He said his prayers, always putting on that armor of God, which Jake trusted to protect him.

  Finally he set out to find some breakfast. He’d seen a diner down the street and headed in that direction. Soon the inviting smells wafting from that small, corner establishment beckoned him inside.

  Jake entered and scrutinized the patrons, mostly sailing men. A couple of them might be trouble, but they didn’t seem looking for any at the moment. He let down his guard half a notch and seated himself at a corner table with his back to the wall and ordered coffee. Just as the waitress set the steaming cup in front of him, Jake spied Emily and Miss Hopper crossing the street. They wore expressions of determination, and he wondered what they were up to. Jake couldn’t resist saying hello.

  The legs on his chair scraped the scarred wooden floor as Jake moved to stand. He asked the waitress to save his table then walked outside and met the pair on the boardwalk.

  “Oh, Deputy . . . ” A blush crept up Miss Hopper’s neck and spread into her face. “What a nice surprise.”

  He politely inclined his head. “Miss Hopper.” He looked at Em. “Good morning, Miss Sundberg.�
� He could tell by her smile that his feigned formality amused her.

  “G’morning, Jake. We were making our way to the hotel. You’re just the person we hoped to find.” She elbowed her friend. “Isn’t that right, Iris?”

  Miss Hopper nodded with such vigor that the curls around her face bobbed and swayed.

  “Hmm . . . ” Jake immediately grew suspicious. “And what, may I ask, do I owe this unexpected but most pleasant call—that is, if you would have found me at the hotel?”

  Emily shot a glance skyward at his teasing, and Jake chuckled at the response.

  “I would like to interview you for the Chronicle.” Miss Hopper fluttered her lashes. Jake had learned the gesture wasn’t necessarily flirtatious. The young woman seemed to have rapid eye movement whenever she felt flustered, embarrassed, or the least bit excited.

  His gaze moved to Emily. Sunlight danced off the golden strands of hair framing her face. A fitted cap complete with ribbons and feathers covered the rest of her head.

  “Do you have some time, Jake?”

  “For you? Of course . . . for both of you.” He rubbed his scratchy jaw. “I’m just not sure about the interview.”

  “It’s mostly a tribute to your grandfather.” Miss Hopper wore some concoction over her platinum ringlets. Jake found the thing most distracting. “But I thought I’d add that his grandson, you, is carrying on Mr. Oliver Stout’s passion for upholding United States law.”

  “Well . . . ”

  “Please, Jake?”

  The way Em’s blue eyes pleaded with him melted his resolve. “All right. But I was about to eat breakfast. Will you ladies join me?”

  “What a kind offer,” Miss Hopper said. “We accept.”

  “Yes, thank you for the invitation.”

  Jake opened one of the diner’s two tall doors, and the ladies filed in. He showed them to his table, and they all sat down.

  “This is a decent place, isn’t it?” Jake noticed Emily glancing around at the other patrons.

  “It’s fine.” Miss Hopper had claimed the chair beside him. “Especially this time of day.”

  Jake’s gaze returned to Em, who sat across from him. “You lookin’ for someone, Miss Sundberg?” He could only guess. “Andy Anderson, perhaps?”

  Emily sent him a withering stare. Next she lifted the printed menu off the table.

  “I don’t see him, but if he walks in I’ll let you know,” Jake promised.

  “Oh, who cares about him?”

  Did she mean it? Jake glimpsed the shadow on the left side of her face, a bruise, and he cringed. He’d hurt her the other day. How could he have forgotten, although she’d been hiding it awfully well.

  “I’ll quit teasing you, Emily. I’m sorry.”

  She momentarily weighed his apology. “I accept . . . and thank you.”

  “Poor Em gets teased enough by her brothers.” Iris shot her a sympathizing glance.

  “And father too.”

  Despite her facetious tone, Jake knew that Emily adored her father—almost as much as the captain adored her, no doubt.

  The waitress came and took their orders. Jake was pleased the ladies decided on more than a nibble.

  As if divining his thoughts, Emily said, “Mrs. Hopper, our lovely landlady and Iris’s grandmother, doesn’t serve breakfast at the boardinghouse on the weekends. So it’s nice that we can share breakfast with you this morning, Jake.”

  “Likewise.” He didn’t think he’d mind glancing across the breakfast table and seeing Em’s sweet face every day. His gaze slowly fell to her strawberry-ripe lips, a juicy-looking neck, and—

  Best stop right there.

  He took another swallow of coffee and gazed around the busy diner. Mismatched wooden tables sported neat, checkered cloths, and various styles of chairs, much like the establishment’s patrons themselves, circumferenced them. Plates clapped together from somewhere behind the counter, and the sound intermingled with the chinking of eating utensils.

  Jake’s thoughts stayed on Emily. A lofty dream, pursuing her. Could be why Andy didn’t pay her any mind. A man would have to impress the captain. Daunting, but Jake felt up to the challenge.

  Pity, though, that he couldn’t court her. He had a hunch that Captain and Mrs. Sundberg and Em’s brothers would approve. They already considered him a friend of their family because of Granddad, and Jake sensed he’d won their trust the other night when he’d dined in their home.

  “Deputy, did you hear my question?”

  Jake glanced at Miss Hopper. “My apologies. What did you say?”

  “I asked if I could begin my interview before our breakfast arrives.”

  “Go right ahead.”

  A fluttering of lashes behind thick lenses. “First off, when did you decide to be a United States deputy marshal?”

  “It was right after my father was gunned down in cold blood.”

  Miss Hopper paled slightly, but made a note on the bound booklet in front of her.

  He glanced across the table to gauge Emily’s reaction and saw neither shock nor pity in her expression. Only a glint of sorrow in her eyes before she sipped from the cup of tea that evidently arrived while his mind had drifted.

  Smoky smells of frying ham reached his nostrils, and his stomach gnawed at him. With the primping he’d done yesterday afternoon and evening in anticipation for the dance, he hadn’t eaten much, but he was ready to chow down now.

  “How old were you, Deputy, when your father died?” Miss Hopper asked, her voice low and sympathetic. “And may I just add that I can relate to your loss. As I mentioned yesterday, my parents were missionaries and tragically killed in South America.”

  “You have my sympathies.” Jake lifted his coffee cup. “I was fifteen. A month away from sixteen.” He finished his coffee and waved the waitress over for a refill. “I managed to finish school while I tried my best to fill Pa’s shoes on the ranch. My sister and mother did everything they could too. But then Ma—”

  Jake still couldn’t bring himself to actually speak the words killed herself. He paused to allow the waitress to fill his coffee cup. “Ma died in a freakish way that I don’t care to discuss. But after she passed, I wasn’t interested in the ranch anymore. A fellow named Boyd Webster offered to buy it and ended up falling in love and marrying my sister in the process.” At that, Jake grinned. “Things worked out well for Deidre, which made me happy. So with the ranch now in the capable hands of my brother-in-law, I decided to doggedly pursue the men who’d killed Pa.” He leaned closer to Miss Hopper. “You see, I’d been keeping track of those two as best I could through newspaper articles and hearsay. I told the sheriff what I knew, and since these men also had a history of federal offenses, the sheriff handed the matter off to United States Marshal William McDermott. I proved myself a good shot with a good head on my shoulders, and not long after we met, Marshal McDermott swore me in as a deputy. Later I rode with the posse that found those men, and we brought them to justice.”

  “Did you kill them, Jake?”

  He looked at Em, noticing the ferocity in her gaze. “No, I didn’t kill them. The trio was tried in court for their crimes and sentenced to hang.”

  “If someone killed my father, I’d want revenge.”

  “No, you wouldn’t, Em. You’ve got a conscience. That’s obvious. Therefore, you’d want justice.”

  She appeared skeptical.

  “You see, I believe that at every turn in life, a man—or woman, in your case, ladies—either follows the Lord or follows his heart, which we know is deceitful and desperately wicked, according to the Scriptures.”

  Emily’s features softened, and her gaze sank into her teacup. “I suppose you’re right, Jake.”

  He grinned. “I know I’m right.”

  She flicked him an annoyed little glance for his confidence, no doubt, and he chuckled inwardly. Beside him, Miss Hopper busily scratched everything he said onto paper.

  “And what, exactly, does a deputy marshal do?” Mi
ss Hopper’s light gaze flickered on him again.

  “The usual, I guess, like catching horse thieves, escorting patients to the insane asylum, per judge’s orders, apprehending men who sell whiskey to the Indians, guarding railroad tracks if there’s trouble, either with workers or Indians, and—”

  “Playing poker and finding card cheats?”

  Jake’s gaze honed in on Em. She sipped her tea demurely, but he noticed the sassy gleam in her eyes.

  “I recognized Thaddeus Wilcox from his wanted posters. He’s robbed both banks and trains and looted ranches while folks were away at church. In spite of all those terrible crimes, being a federal deputy marshal, I couldn’t get involved until I learned he’d stolen mail off one of the trains he robbed. Postal theft is a federal crime, and that’s my jurisdiction. When I recognized the wanted man, I couldn’t believe it was him, here in Manitowoc. Last we knew he was somewhere in Minnesota.” Jake rubbed his thumb along the smooth dark brown porcelain handle of his coffee cup. “Even so, I needed to make sure the individual was the scum I thought. I followed him into the saloon, engaged him in a game of poker, and you know the rest.” Jake’s gaze fell onto her cheek again, and for the umpteenth time, he felt terrible about hurting her. “But all’s forgiven, right?”

  Emily’s gaze melded into his as her fingers touched the little silver cross she wore around her neck. She’s wearing Gramma’s necklace again today . . .

  “All’s forgiven.” She gave him one of her sweet grins, and Jake felt the bond between Emily and him get just one cord stronger.

  “So tell me, Deputy . . . ”

  Jake tore his attention from Emily to focus on Miss Hopper’s next question.

  “Is there a special young lady in your life?”

  “Iris!” A chiding note from Em, who leaned toward her friend.

  “I’m just asking. Oh, not for my newspaper article.” Miss Hopper’s features pinched with her suddenly prim expression. “For the sake of breakfast conversation.”

  Jake couldn’t hold a chuckle back. “Well, for the sake of breakfast conversation, no. There’s no special young lady in my life.” Regret poured through him like the coffee he drank. He couldn’t fall in love with Em. Not in this stage of his life. And he couldn’t let Miss Hopper get her hopes up about him either. “And there will be no special lady. You see, my job is what’s called a widow-maker. Deputies run the risk of getting killed with each assignment they accept. I could never do that to a woman—make her a widow on account of my job, that is.” He thought of his mother, so sweet and lovely. She’d hid her despondency over Pa’s death so incredibly well . . .