by B. J Daniels
“That man with you. He’s your fiancé?” he asked as he pushed open the cabin door and stood back to let her enter.
“We only recently became engaged,” she said and stepped in. “I’ve been a widow for twenty years. Sorry, I think I already told you that.”
“You must have married young,” he said as he followed her inside, slipping past her to go into the tiny kitchen area.
“Seventeen,” she said. “My husband was eighteen. We’d been in love since we were kids growing up in Houston Heights. We would have been married twenty-two years this coming summer.”
He slowed but didn’t turn around as he entered the small kitchen. “So you’re thirty-nine. Coffee?”
“I will be. Yes, coffee, please,” she said behind him.
“Have a seat. That rocker’s pretty comfortable by the stove.” He realized that he hadn’t spoken this many words in years. His throat hurt as it always did from lack of use and from the fire he’d breathed in that had burned and scarred him inside and out.
“Did you make this?” she asked.
He turned to see her stroking the sanded-smooth back of the rocker. “Yes.” He felt uncomfortable, but then again he had since the first time she walked into his workshop. She thought she knew him. The way she looked at him was with such love that it embarrassed him. Because of her misplaced adoration, he didn’t like her seeing the way he lived. Even though he’d never cared before what anyone thought.
But this woman wanted him to be someone he wasn’t. Someone he’d never been. Surely she could see that now. He couldn’t imagine though why she could ever think he was her dead husband. A man like him hiding out in an isolated town in Montana? Couldn’t she see by looking at him that he had nothing to offer—even if he’d once been her husband?
That’s why he’d wanted her to see the cabin, even as much as it hurt him to show her. She needed to see the way he lived, see him with all his scars in the bright light of the winter sun coming through the window. She needed to know that he was no one’s savior. Anyone woman could do better, especially this one.
She sat down in the rocker as he brought out two chipped, mismatched mugs, filled them with coffee and handed her one. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him, then quickly down into the coffee as if embarrassed.
He watched her cradle her hands around the mug, still staring down into it, and felt a strange sense of intimacy. Maybe bringing her to his cabin had been a mistake. He worried that anything he did would be a mistake as he took a seat on the only other chair in the kitchen, one he kept pulled up to the small table. He didn’t need another kitchen chair because he never had company. That too she must see.
When she looked up, he met her green eyes and thought he’d never seen anything so wide and bottomless, so beautiful, so trusting, so loving. He felt sick to his soul that he couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. He could see the shards of her broken heart in those eyes when she looked at him. His heart ached to take away that hurt, knowing it wasn’t his place even if he could.
“I wanted to ask about your husband,” Jon said to break the unbearable silence. Normally, he loved the quiet. When Earl Ray stopped by, they often didn’t talk, both comfortable without words.
But with this woman sitting in his cabin, he felt anxious. The sooner they got this cleared up, the sooner she could get on with her life. Also the sooner everyone’s focus would be off him. He just hoped it would be soon enough. “He died in an explosion?”
“A refinery in Houston.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted bitter, but that was nothing new. “You never got to identify his body?”
She shook her head and looked around his cabin for a moment as if she knew where he was headed with this, since that would explain why she was convinced her husband was still alive. She’d never gotten the closure she needed.
“That must have been hard for you. You have two kids you said?”
“Two girls, Mia and Danielle. Mia was one and a half, Danielle just a few months old at the time. They’re both adults now. Mia has her own graphic-design business and is very successful. Danielle is finishing college at Rice University. She wants to teach elementary school.”
“I’m sorry, you did tell me that.” He shook his head. “How did you manage by yourself? Did your husband have insurance?”
“No insurance, but there was a settlement from the refinery. I never touched that money, though.”
He stared at her, his next words coming out too sharp. “Why not?”
She looked down again. “Because I always believed that Danny wasn’t dead and that when he came back, we’d have to return it. I did invest it, though.”
Smart lady. “So how did you live?”
“We had to move back in with my parents for a while, but I got a job editing and ended up a ghost writer.” She looked embarrassed. “Apparently I have a talent for telling other people’s stories.”
“You can make a living doing that?” He couldn’t help his surprise. Everything about this woman came as a surprise, however, especially the depth of her love for her husband and her faith that he had somehow survived. He wished he were that man more than she could ever know.
“It wasn’t easy, but we’ve done fine. The girls are strong, independent young women now.”
“Like their mother,” he said, thinking of how much she had accomplished and how little he had. Both of them had gone through their share of pain, but she hadn’t let it defeat her. He reminded himself that now she had a chance for happiness. He couldn’t bear that she might miss it because of him.
“You’re engaged.” He noticed that she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring and swore silently.
“We were. I thought I could move on. I can’t.”
He didn’t know what to say. This was not going the way he’d hoped. “I’m sorry about that. He says he loves you and wants to marry you.”
She looked away again. “Can you tell me how you got your scars?” she asked quietly.
He’d known the question was coming. It always came up eventually. “Car fire.” Those were just his visible scars. They both fell silent again. “Look, I’m sorry about your husband, but I’m not him. He sounds like he was a nice guy. I know he would want you to spend that death benefit, marry this man who obviously loves you and write yourself a happy ending.”
“You have a slight Texas accent.”
He took a sip of his coffee and put the mug down on the side table next to him, trying hard not to show his frustration. “Texas road construction. The twang, though, was from being born in Arkansas.” He leaned forward, elbows to his knees. “Katie—”
Surprise registered all over her reddening face. “That’s what Danny used to call me.”
“Sorry, I thought your boyfriend said it was Katie.”
“It’s Kate. Kate Jackson.”
“Kate, you seem like a really nice lady. I wish I was your husband, but I’m not. I’m just a guy with few prospects who only wants to be left alone.”
She nodded, her cheeks reddening even more.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he continued. “But you don’t belong here in this town or around me. I’ve nothing to offer you other than a mug of coffee—instant, at that.”
She put down her cup on the edge of the small kitchen table and ran her hand down the arm of the rocker. “You make beautiful furniture.”
“Thanks, but that rocker is one of my rejects. That’s why it’s in my cabin instead of sold last summer at the bakery Bessie owns. That’s how I make my living, such as it is. I never stay anywhere long. Though, I’ve been in Buckhorn too long. If you come back through on your trip, I won’t be here. That’s the way I like it.”
She seemed to study the arm of the rocker. “Even your rejects are beautiful. I suspect you’re too demanding of yourself.�
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He chuckled at that. “That’s me, too demanding of myself.”
Kate raised her gaze to his. “I don’t believe you.” He started to explain that what he’d said had been sarcasm, but she cut him off. “That’s how Danny was. He wanted so much for our little family. I worried that he would kill himself to make sure that we had everything we needed. He would have sacrificed himself for us. He was that kind of man. I suspect he did sacrifice himself. If he walked away that day, it was because he foolishly believed that he was worth more dead than alive.”
Jon shook his head. “I hate what you’ve been going through for all these years. But isn’t it time to put the past behind you, to move on, to find happiness with someone who has something to offer you? Let Danny go. He’s gone. You can’t bring him back.”
Her smile shredded his heart. “I recognized you the moment I saw you. Maybe it was the way you were standing. Or your profile. Once I saw your hands, the long fingers, I thought of what your mother used to say. She always thought you should have been a pianist instead of a laborer.” He tried to stop her, but she kept talking over him. “I didn’t know heart-deep, though, until I looked into your eyes. Your eyes are sable brown and there has always been such kindness in them. Your eyes can’t lie. They never could. I knew you weren’t dead. I gave up hope when Collin came into my life. But in my heart, I knew that when I found you, I wouldn’t be able to let you go no matter what.”
“Kate—”
“Do you know who you really are? If so, why didn’t you come back?”
He pushed away his coffee before turning his gaze on her. It hurt to look at her. He saw so much of the injured woman inside her, so much of her shattered heart, so much of the man who’d left her to fend for herself. “I told you, I’m not him. I wish I was so I could give you the closure you need. But I don’t know this Danny you talk about. I don’t know you.”
“But I know you. I’m staying in town.”
He groaned inwardly. This was exactly what he didn’t want. “Please don’t do that. I know how badly you want me to be this man you once loved. Even if I was him, how many years has it been?”
“Almost twenty.”
“Right. Twenty years. A love like the one you’ve told me about can’t endure. People change.”
“Not your heart. I can see it in your eyes. I don’t know what happened to you or why you never came back. But somewhere inside you, you know me.” She pulled her coat around her as she rose from the rocker. Her smile was filled with sorrow and pain and, worst of all, hope.
He cursed as he watched her go out his front door into the storm. “Katie,” he whispered and felt such a pain in his chest that it doubled him over.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
COLLIN STORMED AROUND the small motel room feeling like a caged animal. He couldn’t believe this was happening. It was as if he’d never known Kate at all. The moment he’d returned to the room, he’d known where she had gone. Back to that man.
It was as if she’d lost her mind, and all over some two-bit woodworker in an old carriage house in the middle of Nowhere, Montana. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d seemed so smart, so together. Was she really ready to stay in this town with some stranger rather than go with him? What could she be thinking?
That was just it. He had no idea and that scared him. He felt as if he was losing her. He scoffed. Impossible. He had more to offer her than Jon Harper—even if the man was her long-dead husband.
But he wasn’t. Jon Harper had made that perfectly clear when Collin had stormed into his workshop. He’d sworn that he wasn’t Daniel Jackson. Why would he lie? It made no sense. The man had been adamant. But had Kate believed it? Hell no.
He told himself not to panic. He’d made a call to his associates in Canada. He had at least another day, maybe a little longer. Kate had no idea why it was so important that she went to Canada with him. So as long as he played it cool... But how was he going to convince her to come with him? If he could just find some solid proof that Jon Harper wasn’t her dead husband.
He stopped pacing. It shouldn’t be that hard to prove. He pulled out his cell phone. He had a friend in the Houston Police Department who owed him a favor.
“Nels,” he said when the man answered. “I’m in a little bind. I need to know about a man named Jon Harper. Spelled J-O-N, apparently.” When he’d been in the man’s workshop, he’d seen a small plaque with the name carved in it. Must be so people knew who to write the check to for one of his masterpieces.
“Do you have any idea how many Jon Harpers there are in the world?” Nels demanded. “I’m going to need more than that.”
“Like what?”
“DNA, fingerprints.”
“Okay,” Collin said, even though he didn’t have a clue how he could get either. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m going to need an ID on him ASAP. Like in the next day or two.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” the cop said. “Listen, I know I owe you, but you have no idea what you’re asking. DNA would take days, if not weeks, and fingerprints won’t do any good unless he has a record.”
A criminal record. That could explain a lot about the man, Collin realized. “I’ll get his fingerprints. I’ll overnight them. I’m betting they’re in the national database.” He hung up. Hadn’t he thought from the first that the carpenter had something to hide? Why else stay in this town? If Collin were right, a man like Jon Harper would have a record. Which meant his fingerprints would be on file.
The hard part was getting his prints. It meant paying the man another visit.
* * *
KATE COULDN’T GO back to the motel. She was shaken after her visit with Jon. Seeing the way he lived broke her heart. It was as if he’d been punishing himself all these years. Doing penitence for walking out on her and the girls? Or did he really not remember her on a conscious level?
Inside his cabin, she’d gotten a good look at him. The light coming in the kitchen window had been blindingly bright. She’d seen the scars on his face and throat clearly. Just as she’d seen glimpses of the face that she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. When he looked at her... His brown eyes gave him away.
So why did he keep telling her that he wasn’t Danny?
Because he honestly didn’t remember her? But he’d called her Katie.
She knew that wasn’t proof and that Collin could be right. Even if Jon was Danny, he didn’t want her. Because she was a stranger? Or because he’d wanted out all those years go? If he had wanted her, he would have come back to her.
So why didn’t she move on? Why didn’t she leave with Collin? Maybe it wasn’t too late to make a new life for herself. What did she hope to accomplish by staying here even a few more days?
She stepped into the café, moving to a booth away from the doorway and cold breeze that had followed her in. Through the front window, she stared out at the falling snow, convinced it was never going to stop. She wished for Texas and the humid warmth and the familiarity of her home. The security of it. The ignorance she’d had there. Only days ago, she’d never laid eyes on Jon Harper. Never seen Danny’s eyes looking back at her. Never thought she’d find herself in this quandary.
Only days ago, she’d known who she was. Now, she was second-guessing herself. Even questioning her mental stability. And yet her heart swelled at even the thought of Jon Harper. She’d felt a connection the moment she’d seen him standing in his workshop that first day. Dust motes hanging in the air around him. His strong profile etched against the glow of the lamp—and her memory.
“I thought you’d be miles down the road by now,” Bessie said as she appeared at the end of the booth. All Kate could do was shake her head. “Something tells me you didn’t eat the lunch you got to go. When I feel like you look, food is the only answer.”
Kate had to smile. Bessie—just like everyone else here—had encouraged her
to leave as soon as she could. So, it surprised her that the woman seemed to be dispensing kindness, if not sympathy, today.
“What would you suggest?” Kate asked, knowing there was no food on this earth that was going to make her feel better. But she was ready to try anything.
“I have a batch of corn bread about to come out of the oven. I think a big piece with butter and honey to go with my ham and bean soup will do the trick.”
Kate tried to laugh but it came out sounding more like a sob. “Why not?”
Bessie disappeared back into the kitchen. Kate watched the snow, hypnotized by the flakes sweeping past the window as she tried to rein in her emotions. The snow had risen higher on the window. If it didn’t stop soon, she would suffocate under its cold, feathery flakes.
She wondered what Collin was doing. Probably losing his mind over her. Why didn’t he just give up on her and leave? Did he love her that much? She took in a deep breath and let it out, afraid she was giving up her chance for happiness.
But even as she thought it, she knew that she could never be happy with Collin—not knowing that Danny was alive. She wasn’t wrong. But, she’d been wrong before and that made her doubt herself. In her heart, though...
Shaking her head, she wondered how she could have thought that marrying Collin was a good idea when clearly she’d never gotten over Danny. Not even after twenty years of being alone. There was only one man she wanted. That alone broke her heart because that man didn’t want her, even if she was right and Jon was Danny.
“Here,” Bessie said, handing her a napkin to wipe her eyes. She put down a bowl of ham and bean soup and a plate of corn bread on the table, then pulled a bear-shaped plastic container of honey from her apron pocket.
Bessie slid into the booth opposite her. “Eat,” she ordered. “You think you can’t eat a bite, I know. But you can and you will because you need to, and I’m going to sit here until you do.”
