Bleeding Heart (The Heart's Spring Book 2)

by Amber Stokes

  Myghal directed the horse off of the main road, onto a field outside of town. Jumping out of the wagon, he came around to her side, lifting his arms up to her. Through her blurred vision she looked down on his compassionate, freckled face – so innocent and good. How was it that he had ever chosen to be her friend?

  She shook her head and lifted a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking and cries escaping. Myghal lightly touched her arm before he started to pull her toward him, finally urging her to let him lift her out of the wagon.

  “Come with me,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her across the field, down toward the Eel River, which they had recently crossed. His grip was strong and comforting.

  When they reached the river’s edge, he let go. Rubbing furiously at her weak tears, she looked down at the rocky shore and the water moving steadily along. The dairy farmers had all left the fields for the day, and other locals were probably eating supper by this time. It was quiet, peaceful. Just her and Myghal. And God?

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Myghal. I’m just so scared…”

  How could she explain all of her fears – the jumble of worry for her friends’ lives; of losing the Mended Heart and their sweet little home with the white trim and the pretty curtains and the porch from which she could watch the stars; of this affection developing between her and her deceased husband’s brother?

  Glancing over at Myghal, she saw the pain etched on his generally happy and always accepting face. He must have felt her watching him, for he looked up after a moment and held her gaze. His features relaxed a bit, and she heard him let out a deep breath. Bending down, he picked up a stone and then stretched his arm back before sending it sailing into the river.

  “Livin’ in fear ain’t truly livin’,” he finally said. “How can you find any joy or purpose in the moment if yer always afraid you’ll be losin’ it?”

  She pondered that for a moment before reaching down to pick up her own stone. “But how can I truly enjoy anything if I know it won’t last?” The pebble felt cold in her fingers as she rubbed it back and forth, feeling the grit falling into her palm.

  “‘For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come,’ so said the author of Hebrews.”

  “You’re speakin’ of the Scriptures?”

  “Aye. Ya won’t find the stability yer seeking here.”

  She clutched the pebble tightly in her fist, imagining the dirt staining her hand. Part of her wanted Myghal to say more, to tell her that none of this was her fault, that she wouldn’t be to blame if everything fell apart again. The other part of her heart cried out to the silence. I’m so stained.

  Dusk settled around her shoulders as she lifted her gaze to the hills beyond the river. She craved a lasting quiet. She wanted a place to call home where her shame wouldn’t haunt her, a place that no one could destroy.

  Don’t you remember?

  The words whispered to her heart, the comforting sounds of a fire crackling and Myghal’s fiddle playing and the ocean murmuring. She breathed in and imagined that she could smell the smoke from Seth’s pipe.

  Forgive me, Jesus. She mouthed the words, even as she remembered praying them with her daddy years and years ago. She had known the hope of home then, of love and safety…of knowing deep within that nothing, no matter how dark, could take away that love that filled her heart.

  I do remember.

  Thoughts of Joe’s murder crept into the moment, making her cringe with the contrast. But Joe had known God, hadn’t he? Not even Rufus’s bullet could have taken that away.

  Sally opened her hand to look at the hard little rock she had been clutching. A second later, she threw it as hard as she could, watching with satisfaction as it arced through the air and sank into the clean water.

  Myghal came to her side, his presence steady and calming. “It’s gettin’ late. Shall we head home then, lass?”

  “Yes.” She brushed away the last traces of her tears and gave him a small smile. It’s not too late, after all.

  Chapter 23

  Sally was alone in the Mended Heart when Jack returned. Myghal was out getting supplies and gathering orders from local restaurants, but he had asked Grant, the blacksmith, if he would look in on Sally when he could throughout the day.

  She had trained herself to stop jumping every time the bell rang, but her traitorous heart still raced a little when she saw Jack standing in the doorway, looking more unsure of himself than she had ever seen him. His beard was trimmed, and his face had filled out in a handsome, mature way since their parting. Yes, she realized, we’ve both changed, and I don’t really know him anymore.

  Straightening her shoulders and praying for strength, she got up from where she had been crouching to refill the shelves on the customer’s side of the counter. “Hello, Jack.”

  He dipped his head in greeting, but he didn’t raise his eyes. “I’ve been tryin’ to find you.”

  Her heart seemed to stop before it sped up again in recognition. She had closed the shop the day after Seth talked with Jack, leaving for several days without notice. He must have wanted to speak with her since. “I’m sorry. I…something came up, and I had to leave for a few days.”

  He nodded again but didn’t reply. She considered seeking refuge behind the counter and waiting until he got up the courage to speak, making it as hard as she could for him, but the whole situation between them had been such a horrible mess for too long. It was time to let it go.

  She stepped toward him. “I can close the shop for a few minutes, if you’d like. Our house is just down the road a ways. We could sit on the porch.”

  Was it an inappropriate suggestion? Would he think she was trying to win him back, seduce him? She cringed at the thought.

  Forcing her hands to stay clasped in front of her, instead of reaching up to play with her hair to get rid of some of her nervous energy, she waited.

  “Yes. That would be fine. If you’re sure you can step away for a bit.”

  She surprised herself with a smile, and gestured around the empty room. “I think all of these customers can wait.”

  He smiled then, too, and reached out to hold the door open. Before she slipped out she put the “Closed” sign on the inside of the window, then walked with him down the street.

  They remained quiet as they traversed the short distance to her house. Despite the familiarity that lingered between them like a low fog, it started to dissipate in the afternoon sun. It didn’t hurt to walk beside him, to know that he belonged to another. They didn’t really know each other anymore, not as they were now – just the memories of who they once were a long time ago.

  When they reached the house, she left Jack to get settled on the porch while she went to make some coffee. It was never warm enough here to offer something cool to drink, and she remembered his fondness for the stuff. Hopefully he still liked his coffee strong.

  Finally, she went outside and offered him the mug, then sat in the chair a few feet away from his. She looked beyond the houses across the street, finding a sense of calm in the view of low green hills and cows dotting the fields.

  “Your brother-in-law, he told me about what happened after…while you were in Virginia City.”

  Her hands clenched in her lap, and she tried to relax, letting the rare blue of the coastal sky distract her from unwanted memories. “You don’t have to say anythin’. I know it wasn’t your fault, not really. I was foolish.”

  “I should have made sure you were taken care of, that you made it home safely,” he said, leaning forward but still not looking at her. He appeared to be studying the porch planks.

  “Maybe,” she agreed. But if he had, where would she be now? To never have known Joe...or his brother…or Myghal…or Zachary Taylor...

  “I made my choice, Jack, without asking you what you wanted. You weren’t responsible for me. We weren’t even promised to each other.”

  “Not in so many words, but I gave you hope.”

  He had gi
ven her that, for a while. “I did blame you for a long time.” He was silent, waiting. Did she really want to let him know how deeply foolish she had been? “I… I wanted to find you. I wanted to make you pay. Or make you take me back.”

  “I heard that you came to Oregon.”

  “Yes.” She would never be able to tell him the depth of sorrow, shame, and hurt she felt when she had seen that he was married. Only God and Joe and Myghal would ever know it.

  Jack’s knee bounced. “I want to do something, to help you out now.”

  Myghal and Seth had prepared her for this. “Jack, it wasn’t your fault.” She was surprised to realize that she meant it.

  “I didn’t handle things right.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and stood. “I know I can’t make it up to you, but let me give you some money. For your future.”

  Since I didn’t help you back then, was left unsaid but understood between them.

  He finally met her gaze, and his was pleading. She had never seen him look at her in that way. In their brief relationship before that wretched trip to Virginia City, he had always looked at her like he knew how desperate she was for his affections. She had been the one pleading – he had been the one obliging, even though he had still been tender to her, at times.

  “I don’t know what to say. It won’t change the past, you know.” As he frowned, she hastened to add, “I’m all right. God has been merciful to me.” Somehow, she knew those words were true.

  “Please, Sally.” He sat back down again, facing her this time. “If not for your sake, then for mine. My wife and I have been blessed with plenty. Let me share some with you – for you and your family.”

  My family. Did he mean Seth and Myghal?

  “I…”

  “Please.”

  It felt wrong to accept payment for something that could never be made right. Well, maybe something right could come of it, but that was God’s doing, not Jack’s.

  And yet, she could do this. For Jack. For Seth and Myghal. For her future. A gift to help her in the days ahead, whatever they might bring.

  “That is very generous of you, Jack. I accept your gift, but I do have one condition.”

  She had to smile at his hesitant expression. Jack never did like for someone else to have the upper hand. “I’d like for you and your wife to come have dinner with us sometime.”

  It was her turn to hesitate, unsure if she was expecting too much. Surely, Jack’s wife would know what Sally had once been, what she’d done…

  Biting her lip, she added, “If your wife wouldn’t be offended, that is.”

  His smile reappeared, and he had never looked so charming. To her heart’s relief, though, she found that such charm didn’t hold her captive anymore. It only made her happy for their peace, and for his marriage.

  “We would be honored to be your guests. Thank you for the invitation.”

  He extended his hand, and she shook it with a sense of hope and finality.

  ***

  It had been a month since Sally had talked Seth into that trip to Falk. He cherished the memories of their day on the shore, just talking and watching the boats come in and out of the bay. Their dinner together at a hotel in Eureka, sleeping in separate rooms that night before heading to Falk the next day. Watching Sally dance and eventually joining in her laughter and cheer. Those memories comforted him when it was his turn to endure a week as a lumberman at the Elk River Mill, and they deepened his joy when he returned to her in Ferndale.

  Now it was Wednesday, and the thought of leaving on Friday for another week at the mill without her made him start planning. Could he talk her into another short trip to Falk, for the Saturday night dance?

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, where she was mixing batter for a cake. She was humming a tune, gazing at the wall like she was lost in a memory. Maybe she was remembering the dance, too? Or was he being ridiculous for thinking he could be on her mind? They were both only recently widowed. It hadn’t even been a year since Naomi died. Were his thoughts dishonorable?

  Sally glanced over at him then, and he quickly looked down at the loaf he was supposed to be kneading, embarrassed to be caught staring.

  “Something on your mind?”

  He could hear the teasing in her voice. Was she flirting with him?

  When he looked at her again, she blushed. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s fine.” He knew how difficult some habits were to lose. He couldn’t hold it against her because he couldn’t help but feel a slight warmth in his chest at her attention.

  He saw her nod, appearing contrite and perhaps grateful, before she resumed humming and stirring.

  It only took another moment of building anxiety before he felt he had to say something. “There was…is…something on my mind, actually.” He folded the dough one last time before he turned, his back against the counter. “Would you like to go to Falk again?”

  She held the bowl in front of her and continued mixing the contents, which were probably over-blended at that point. He smiled, feeling his own strange mix of nervousness and anticipation and shame.

  “This weekend?” She seemed surprised, but hopefully not dismayed.

  “Yeah. We could leave tomorrow, if you wanted to go. But you don’t have to – it was just an idea. I thought perhaps we could go to the Saturday night dance…”

  He crossed his arms across his chest. His words were pouring out like he was an awkward boy, not a widower who was thirty-six years old. Better if he kept the rest of his blabbing and blundering inside

  She laughed, and the sound made his insecurities evaporate. He chuckled, too, and that only made her chortle louder and harder. She set the bowl aside and put her elbows on the counter, her head bent over in her uncontrollable mirth.

  “Are you crying?” he asked between chuckles, amused to see her wiping the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “I…can’t…help it!” Her laughter had turned to a strange mix of halting giggles and happy sobs.

  “I think I should be offended that you found my suggestion that hilarious.”

  She took a towel from near the sink and fanned her face with it.

  Shaking his head, a smile still tugging at his lips, he went back to the dough, shaping it and getting it ready to put in the oven. Just as he slid it on the rack and closed the door, he heard her say, “I think it’s a great idea.”

  His heart stopped, then pumped warmth through his whole body. He straightened and met her sweet blue gaze. “If you’re sure.”

  “Yes. We’ll have to work extra hard today, but I don’t mind. I love dancing.” Her hands waved as she talked, showing her excitement.

  “Me, too.”

  She smiled brightly before spinning around, back to her baking. His throat tightened, and his eyes burned with unexpected tears – perhaps not of laughter, as Sally’s had been, but far from tears of sadness.

  ***

  At the Saturday night dance, Myghal shook his head, partly to move his unruly hair out of his eyes, and partly in amusement at Sally and Seth’s antics. It was obvious the man was smitten – and when it came to dancing, he made up in enthusiasm what he lacked in skill. The wild-hearted Sally and he made quite an intriguing couple on the dance floor. They were a lot easier on the eyes than the woodsmen forced to dance with one another for lack of women.

  He directed his concentration back to the song he was playing, trying to match tempo with the other musicians. He could get carried away with the fiddle – swept away in a fast-paced song about a man who had made fast-paced, rash decisions and thereby lost the woman he truly loved.

  For a moment, he wanted to throw down the fiddle, take his turn with Sally, lead her around the room and spin her into his embrace. He would show the world that he was a man with dreams of his own, with a heart that could win another’s. He could.

  Couldn’t he?

  There is a time for everythin’. I jest wish I knew when the time for keepin’
, and lovin’, and embracin’ will be fer me.

  Was it now? He had wondered briefly if now was that time for speaking up and making a claim. The only answer he really felt to the prayers he had uttered while loading logs for the Gypsy locomotive to transport or while assisting Sally in the kitchen was a nagging restlessness. Much as he wanted to be angry with Seth for stealing Sally’s affections away, he knew she had never really belonged to him. His heart had confused a true friendship with other sorts of longings. It just wasn’t time yet.

  For him.

  He couldn’t deny that Sally and Seth were doing nicely together. As he drew out a high note, he thought of how they both were healing, blossomin’ like two stems of a lupine plant reaching their petals out to each other and up to the sunny sky.

  He grinned. That was the trouble with a lonely man – he ended up filling his head full of poetry and other impractical thoughts.

  Reining in his mental wanderings, he brought his fiddle to his side as the song came to an end. Zachary Taylor approached the small, roughly built stage, while the rest of the room hummed with conversation and raucous laughter.

  “Is it time again fer another of yer sad songs?” Myghal asked in mock distress. Taylor gave him a pointed look, and Myghal laughed.

  “Some of us need a break from your loud and wild tunes.”

  “Not likely. A dance such as this one is no time fer melancholy, man. Surely the boys will start another civil war if ye insist on bringing down their good mood.”

  Taylor shook his head, but Myghal could see he was struggling to conceal his grin. “Move out of my way and I’ll pretend you didn’t just suggest skipping your break.”

  Affecting a frustrated sigh, Myghal stepped to the side and swept his hand in a welcoming gesture. “Put it that way an’ I find I could use a sad song or two. Feel free to entertain those restless boys the rest o’ the night.”

  Smiling brightly, Myghal stepped from the stage and went in search of water. His throat always burned after the Saturday night dances. He did tend to get carried away with the music.